


Some Other Us

by thatgleekychick



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgleekychick/pseuds/thatgleekychick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slave!AU. In a world where orphaned minors are forced into slavery, Kurt and Blaine have been best friends, and completely inseparable, since the age of 9. But one day when they're both fifteen, their worlds are shattered—and now they may never see each other again. Warning: Minor character death</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK! Welcome to Some Other Us, which is very different for me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! The title was inspired by Some Other Me from the If/Then musical which this is sort of loosely based off of. I own nothing. Huge thank you to my beta, Christine!

The law was supposed to solve a problem and while it destroyed the lives of those effected, it was supposed to help the government find its footing again. It was also supposed to be temporary. But four decades later, the law was still in place: if a minor were to become an orphan—and no previous legal arrangements had been made—then the underage individuals were placed in a yearlong training program and then sold as slaves to the families who could afford them. But even after the economy recovered, the laws remained the same, the injustice continued.  It seemed nothing could keep the government from changing its mind—not protests, not riots, not petitions. But there were people still fighting.

Unfortunately, no one managed to win that fight before the year Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson turned fifteen.

The summer after Kurt turned nine, he and his father moved to a house on Beacon Street. His mother had passed away unexpectedly a few months before, and in an attempt at a fresh start, Burt Hummel moved himself, his son, and his business to a new town. Lima, Ohio was a small, quiet place, perfect for starting fresh and making new friends. Not that Kurt had that many before.

Burt and Kurt had barely begun unpacking when the doorbell rang and they were greeted on the other side by four smiling faces. Well, three smiling faces and scowl. The Andersons, who lived across the street, had stopped by to welcome the Hummels to the neighborhood. Mark and Heather Anderson introduced themselves, and then their two boys. Their oldest, Cooper—the one with the scowl—was be starting high school in the fall. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some band on it and looked thoroughly uninterested in being there.  But it was Blaine, who was the same age as Kurt, who caught the youngest Hummel’s attention. His dark hair was held perfectly in place by hair gel and he wore a blue sweater accented by a yellow bowtie that Kurt thought warmed the honey color of his eyes. Blaine smiled at Burt when his parents introduced him, then waved wildly at Kurt.

“You kids will be in the same grade,” Burt said, his hand on his son’s shoulder.

What Kurt’s father really meant was “It’ll be good for you to have a friend,” but neither Kurt nor Blaine seemed to care.

“We can have a tea party once I find my set,” Kurt said ignoring the adults and focusing his attention solely on Blaine.

Blaine smiled and nodded and three days later, after their first tea party, the Anderson and Hummel families were officially connected by the bond that had formed between their two youngest boys. Kurt and Blaine became best friends, inseparable, making it through junior high with just each other and starting high school knowing that the teasing and the bullies were no match for them as long as they had each other.

But two weeks before Blaine’s birthday both of their worlds would shift.

It was early October and Mark, Heather, and Cooper decided to take a trip to see Heather’s aunt in Pennsylvania. Blaine hadn’t wanted to go and when Burt offered to let Blaine spend the weekend—as if he wasn’t already planning to do so—the Anderson’s agreed to let Blaine stay behind. On Sunday afternoon, as Blaine packed his things, knowing his parents would be home soon, while Kurt tried to finish his Math homework, the doorbell rang, but neither boy paid any attention, returning to their tasks.

But a little while later, Burt walked into Kurt’s room with a somber expression that stopped Kurt in his tracks. He knew that face. It was the same face that his father had worn years before when he had told him that his mother was gone. That day had taken his world and flipped it on his head—and this day would be no different.

There had been an accident. The day before it had been raining pretty heavily and the boys thought nothing of it, using the dreary weather as an excuse to curl up on the couch and watch movies all day. But somewhere Mark Anderson had been driving when a semi slammed on its breaks, swerving as its tires tried to grasp the pavement beneath them. But it was too slick and Mark hadn’t had time to move out of the way before the truck came crashing into the Anderson’s Prius. Mark, Heather, and Cooper died shortly after arriving at the hospital.

Blaine was quiet as he tried to process Burt’s words. He didn’t scream or cry, but he let them cut into his skin, into his heart, into his everything. The world as he knew it five minutes ago was over. But it was about to get so much worse.

 “Blaine, buddy,” Burt said as he finished his story, the regret of what he’d just said and what he was about to say coating his words, making them rough as they came off his tongue, “God knows why, but your parents didn’t make any arrangements for you.”

 Blaine’s wide eyes shot up, the sadness of the loss of his family mixed in with the understanding of what Burt had just told him sunk into his bones.

 “No! You can’t let them take him!” Kurt shouted, the first to react, “That can’t happen! Dad, you can’t let that happen!”

“Trust me, Kurt, I’ve already tried. I already told the men at the door that I would take Blaine in, but because Mark and Heather didn’t make legal arrangements for Blaine’s guardianship, there isn’t anything we can do right now.”

The anger rolled over Kurt in waves. But he wasn’t sure who he was really angry at. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson for not making the proper arrangements for Blaine? His father for not trying harder to convince the officers that Blaine could just stay with them? The world for being such a cruel place? The tears were warm as they rolled down his cheeks, but the fear began to run cold down Kurt’s spine. They couldn’t take Blaine away from him. He was Kurt’s best friend, his everything.

“W-when do I go?” Blaine asked, his voice small and shaky and broken. His parents and brother were dead, he was going to be shipped away from the only people he had left, but he refused to break down, not now, but the thought of losing Kurt was too much and a single betraying tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek.

“The day after your birthday,” Burt answered, “But you’re staying here until then.”

There wasn’t anything Blaine could do but nod, so he did. The law was the law and no matter how hard they fought against it, it wasn’t going to change anything.

Burt left the room a few minutes later, a hand on each of his boy’s shoulders. Kurt looked over at his best friend, fresh tears pouring from his eyes. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to comfort Blaine when his life had just fallen apart in a matter of minutes. So he did the only thing that made sense: he threw himself at Blaine, wrapping the other boy tightly in his arms. He didn’t offer words of encouragement, or an empty promise that everything would be okay. Instead, he just held Blaine until Blaine’s arms wrapped around him and his body began to shake as he finally let the weight of everything come down on him.

Kurt held tight to Blaine for minutes, hours, he wasn’t sure exactly how long it took before the tears finally stopped and Blaine pulled back just enough to look Kurt in the eye. Blaine’s eyes had always been the most expressive part of himself. If he was happy, his eyes were wide, shiny, and warm. If he was sad, they were darker, duller, but still beautiful. But when Kurt looked into them now, they were nothing less than heartbreaking. They were red from the crying and absolutely terrified. And so was Kurt. He didn’t really know anyone who this had happened to before—there was a girl in his class in the sixth grade that lost her mom to cancer after her dad died before she was born and her mom didn’t have time to make the proper arrangements. But Kurt hadn’t known her, and she sure as hell wasn’t his best friend.

There were reports on the news nearly every night and articles all over the internet debating about the safety and wellbeing of the kids who were put into any of the eight camps around the country. The child labor law and anti-slavery groups were the loudest of the protestors who were constantly telling anyone who would listen that the camps were unsanitary and the trainers were abusive and the thought of Blaine being subjected to that made Kurt’s stomach twist and turn into knots. But he bit back the nausea because Blaine was still here and he needed him now more than ever.

 “We’ve got to two weeks, right?” Blaine asked, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly, trying to let Blaine know that he was there, all while not knowing what he could do. He’d never felt so helpless before—but he was determined to never leave Blaine’s side. At least until he had no other choice.

Blaine took a deep breath, swallowed, and shook his head adamantly, "No. We can’t change any of what is going to happen, so we just have to deal with it. Okay? We just have to make the best of the next two weeks.”

Kurt didn’t even try to stop the tears from falling again. It wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay. Not without Blaine. But there was no way in hell he was going to argue with Blaine over this, “Okay,” he told him. Because what other choice did he have?

* * *

There was no point for Blaine to continue to go to school, and while Burt let Kurt stay home Monday, Tuesday left Blaine with an entire morning, and the house, to himself. He sat against the headboard of Kurt’s bed and read through the information that had been dropped off the day before. Information about the law and what it now meant for Blaine. He wouldn’t even know what camp he was being sent to until he got there, they wouldn’t even tell Burt. They wouldn’t be able to call or write. The pamphlets promised training in all the services he would be expected to perform once the year was up. He’d learn to cook, clean, do laundry, and sew; have training so that he could perform minor maintenance in areas like plumbing and electronics. He’d be the go-to guy for everything that whoever paid enough money to buy him needed. And he’d get nothing more than a room and a couple meals a day as compensation.

Blaine got up out of bed and walked over to the window in Kurt’s room, the one that faced his house—or what had been his house. He’d been given until the end of the week to get anything he wanted or needed out of there before the bank was going to sell it, but he hadn’t yet brought himself to go over there. The house was his, it held his things, but it didn’t really belong to him anymore. Without his parents, nothing belonged to him any longer. Not even himself. But there were some things he wanted to get; things he wanted to give to Kurt and to have the Hummels hold on to…just in case. Things that didn’t belong in a stranger’s hand.

Blaine kept watching the house, hoping that he’d see his mom at the front door, or his dad’s car pull into the driveway after a long day of work, or Cooper making out with some girl behind the garage. But his imaginations never turned into reality, and the funeral was still scheduled for Thursday.

He’d tried hard not to think about it, but once the funeral was over, the countdown to his birthday would be inevitable. And then he would lose everything: his life, his freedom, his identity, and more importantly, he’d lose Kurt and Burt. He’d have nothing.

* * *

There wasn’t much to celebrate on Blaine’s birthday. Burt bought a cake, but the candles were never lit and the song was never sung. There were no balloons or streamers, and there certainly weren’t any presents. Blaine could bring one bag with him to camp, and he wouldn’t even leave there with it.

Later that night, the boys laid in Kurt’s bed—something they hadn’t done in years, mostly because they were getting too big to share. They laid face to face, their fingers intertwined between them. They were quiet for a long time, just watching the other in the moonlight; memorizing freckles and the shape of the other’s nose because this was the last time they were going to see each other. They’d spent every day for the last seven years together and the future seemed infinite and filled with dreams: of Broadway, of New York City, of getting everything their hearts desired. But none of that would ever happen now, at least not for Blaine. And without Blaine, Kurt wasn’t sure what he really wanted anymore.

“Where do you think I’ll end up?” Blaine whispered.

“I don’t know,” Kurt answered, “But they’ll be good to you. I know it.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Blaine’s breath hitched and the tears gathered and then fell from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Because the scariest part of all of this was not having Kurt.

“I miss you already,” Kurt replied his voice heavy with sadness, tears running down his own face.

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

Kurt sniffled and then nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know how or when, but we will. I know it.”

Blaine nodded silently, accepting his friend’s hope, not matter how false it might be.

* * *

Blaine had been on the bus for a couple of hours, still unsure of where he was going. It was an ordinary school bus: yellow exterior, dirty black seats on the inside. There was a foul smell in the air, like the scent of hundreds of people, of bodies, being carted off to a future that didn’t belong to them. If despair had a scent, Blaine thought that it might smell like this bus. There were two other people on the bus. Through the tears that hadn’t stopped falling from his eyes for the last few hours, he saw them, but they didn’t register. He didn’t know if they were male or female, what the color of their skin or hair was. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The officer sat in the front of the bus, gun at his hip. Blaine thought that he introduced himself, but he couldn’t remember his name. Again, he didn’t care. He just climbed on the bus and put himself in a seat and watched as the life he’d known, his house, his family, Kurt, disappeared from view.

No one spoke. The driver and the officer silent, the other passengers didn’t even cough or sniffle. Like Blaine they were probably staring out the window, trying to hold on the memories of the lives they’d once known.

Saying goodbye to Kurt that afternoon might have been the hardest thing he’d even done. Harder than what he was about to do. He’d gotten little sleep, but he woke with the sun, wrapped in the safety of Kurt’s arms. The boy he called his best friend, the boy he was in love with. Kurt hadn’t left Blaine’s side the entire morning, only giving him time to himself so that he could shower. But Kurt had been waiting in his bedroom when he’d come out. He’d been thankful for Kurt’s constant presence. Because without it, he would have broken down. He wouldn’t have found that last bit of something inside him that kept him standing upright. There was breakfast, but no one, not even Burt, ate.

After their attempt at breakfast, everyone sat in the living room and waited for someone to arrive to pick up Blaine. His bag was at the door, the last bit of possession that Blaine would ever have. There were no words, there was only quiet, as Kurt and Blaine sat next to each other on the couch, their fingers interlocked. They didn’t look at each other, only the nothingness in front of them. Words would only bring tears and tears would only bring broken hearts and neither boy wanted to feel that until the last possible moment.

When the doorbell rang, Blaine’s entire body tensed. His fingers gripped Kurt’s as if he could somehow hold on so tight that they couldn’t remove the connection and there would be no other choice but for Blaine to stay with Kurt, every day, forever. But despite Blaine’s every wish, every plea to anyone who could hear him, he was forced to break his contact with Kurt and head towards the front door of the Hummel house. He hugged Burt and thanked him. Two words doing their best to say so many more. Thank you for being like a second father to me when my own was just across the street, thank you for being like a father to me these past couple of weeks, thank you for the things you don’t think you need to be thanked for. He’d never seen Burt Hummel cry, never thought he ever would. But when he pulled away, Burt’s eyes were filled to the brim and a single tear was sliding down his cheek.

He didn’t know how to say goodbye to Kurt. He’d been thinking about it since the day he found out he’d been leaving, but even more the last day. How do you say goodbye to someone who means everything to you? How do you leave the one person that you can’t live your life without? It’s not easy and you don’t do it on your own free will. Blaine looked at Kurt, his best friend’s eyes red rimmed and filled with tears. The sight pummeled Blaine’s heart. They’d always had the ability to have conversations, to say things, without actually using words. And now Blaine was grateful for it. Because he didn’t have to figure out how to say goodbye to Kurt, he just gave him a look and then threw himself into Kurt’s arms and held him and close as humanly possible.  He took that moment to memorize the way Kurt felt against him, the way his arms wrapped around him, the way Blaine fit perfectly against him. This was how he’d remember Kurt for the rest of his life.

The officer cleared this throat and Kurt muttered something that Blaine didn’t quite understand as they pulled away. He didn’t have time to ask for clarification because it was time to go and the officer would no longer wait for him to say goodbye. And then with reluctant steps he followed the officer to the yellow school bus, the one with two other people, the one that smelled of despair.

Blaine thought about Kurt the entire ride. He thought about their past, every day until today that they’d been together. That was how he’d remember Kurt. He’d remember Kurt’s passion for music and for clothes and the way he smiled when Blaine told a stupid joke. He’d remember all the nights they stayed up flipping through Vogue and telling each other secrets that they’d never tell another soul. But he didn’t let him think about their future, because there wasn’t one. Every single hope they’d had or plan they’d made was no longer within their reach. As the bus pulled in front of a large, grey building, there was no future for Blaine Anderson.

* * *

Kurt was only given one day to stay home from school before his father forced him back.

“I know it sucks,” Burt had said, “But you have to get back to your life.”

That was easy for him to say. He didn’t have to go back to school and face the student body of McKinley High. He didn’t have to walk the halls and pass by Blaine’s locker and fight back the urge to just curl up and cry each time he remembered that the locker was no longer Blaine’s and that Blaine was never coming back.

Everyone at school knew. People he’d never met before were passing him in the hallway offering their condolences—like Blaine was dead. Though it kind of felt that way.  But he pushed through the day with as much effort as he could muster—eating lunch alone and being forever grateful when the final bell rang. He’d made it, without Blaine. The only positive thing was the signup sheet he’d seen for auditions for the new show choir. He’d only wished Blaine was around to audition with him.

When Kurt got home, his dad’s truck was parked in the driveway. His father usually wasn’t home until it was closer to dinner but Kurt walked into the house and found his father sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes focused on a pile of papers.

“Hey, kid,” Burt said looking up to greet Kurt, “Sit down. I want to talk to ya bout somethin’.”

Curious, and a little scared, Kurt put his bag down on the couch and joined his father at the table.

“Dad, you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s not-well, I don’t know what it is,” Burt said looking his son in the eye, “But I was thinking a lot today, about Blaine.”

The sound of his best friend’s name drew the tears that Kurt had fought back all day to his eyes; they pooled and then fell slowly while his father continued.”

“I was thinking,” Burt said, “That maybe when the time comes we could buy him.”

Kurt’s breath got caught in his throat, the tears stopped flowing almost immediately, “But dad, you _hate_ slavery.”

“You’re damn right I do. And I’ve never hated it more than when I watched that boy walk out the door. But I can’t just sit around and do nothin’, Kurt. He won’t even really have to do anything. He’ll just be living here.”

“But the evaluators,” Kurt warned.

“He’ll have a list of chores, no different than you. But this way we will know where he is, we will know that he’s safe.”

“Can we-can we even afford to do this?” Kurt asked trying to remain realistic in fear that the optimism was nothing but a lie and his heart would be broken all over again when he and his father both realized that Blaine couldn’t come home.

“We’ve got a year before he’s sold,” Burt told him, “We’ll save until then, every penny we can. And when time comes we’ll be there, ready. What do you say, kid?”

Kurt let the tears fall once again because for the first time in nearly two weeks there was a sliver of hope, a fraction of a chance that things would be alright. That he’d see Blaine again, that he’d have his best friend back. And all he had to do was wait a year and then Blaine’s training would be over and he could come home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I need to take a second to explain how this chapter, and some future chapters, are setup. There is an AU within this AU. It won't be in every chapter, and they vary in length, but sometimes you will see glimpses into the lives of the Andersons and the Hummels had the events of Chapter 1 not taken place. They will always be at the beginning and will be labeled with the header "Somewhere There's a World..."
> 
> Big thank you to my wonderful beta, Christine!

_Somewhere There’s a World…_

It wasn’t anything extravagant. It wasn’t anything the student at McKinley, or even his friends, would talk about for more than a couple of hours after they left. But Blaine’s sixteenth birthday party was perfect.

The entire Glee club was gathered in the Andersons’ basement. There was music playing; everyone singing along and laughing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, and as Blaine looked around at all his friends, he was sure there was no other way he’d want to spend his day. Especially with Kurt standing next to him as they leaned against the back of the couch watching the rest of the room. There was no way anything couldn’t be perfect with Kurt by his side.

“Are you even listening to me, Blaine?” Kurt asked with a slightly annoyed tone.

It was a tone Blaine had become rather fond of. He turned to look at his best friend and nodded, “Of course. Between you and Tina, I have no doubt that our costumes are going to be better than Vocal Adrenaline’s.”

“Exactly! And if we can somehow manage to get all thirteen of us to nail the choreography, there is no way we don’t at least get second place at sectionals,” Kurt said then turned his voice into a whisper and leaned in close to Blaine’s ear, “But I really want to win.”

Blaine let out a breathy laugh and smiled fondly at his best friend, the best person he’d ever met, “We will,” he promised.

For a long moment a comfortable silence fell between the boys as they focused their attention back on the party, but that was how it always was when they were together, comfortable. It didn’t matter if they were doing homework, watching TV, or arguing whether Katy Perry or Britney Spears wore the teal dress better at the Grammys, there was no other person in the entire world that made Blaine feel so at peace.

“Kurt,” Blaine said turning his eyes back towards Kurt, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Kurt’s eyes—his beautiful blue eyes that reminded Blaine of the summer they spent the weekend in Chicago along Lake Michigan—turned towards Blaine, “Yeah, of course.”

Blaine took a deep breath. He’d been thinking about talking to Kurt, about telling him, for weeks. He’d even tried it a couple of times before but he could never get the words to come off his tongue. He hadn’t exactly planned on telling him in his basement surrounded by all his friends with both of their parents upstairs, but the urge was overwhelming, the time felt right, and he wasn’t sure when he was going to get an opportunity like this again.

“Kurt, I just wanted you to know that—“

“Blaine! It’s time to give you your present!” Blaine’s mother interrupted from the top of the stairs, and Blaine felt every word that he had building inside him slip away, “Why don’t you and your friends meet me in the driveway.”

Blaine eyed Kurt curiously, and the smirk on his best friend’s face told Blaine that he was in on whatever was going on. Kurt grabbed his hand and was leading Blaine and the rest of their friends up the stairs, through the house and out the front door into the cool early autumn night.

The sun had just set and there was still some purple left in the sky, but Blaine couldn’t ignore the moonlight that was reflecting off one of the cars in his driveway—a car, he realized, he did not recognize. A black Prius with a giant red bow on the windshield. His parents grinned widely at him from either side of the car, but it was Kurt who was still by his side, their fingers still intertwined that exclaimed, “Happy Birthday, Blaine!”

Later that night, after everyone had left and the house was now quiet, Blaine sat at the end of his bed and replayed the entire evening in his head. But amongst all the friends and the car, what stood out the most was the part where he almost told Kurt how he felt. The part where he’d almost risked everything. And maybe it was a good thing that his mom interrupted when she did; maybe it was the universe trying to tell him something. That it wasn’t the right thing to do, or maybe just not the right time. But the feelings he had for Kurt, they _felt_ right. And he’d had them for so long, kept them a secret for so long, that he was sure that if he didn’t tell them to someone soon, he’d explode.

A knock pulled Blaine away from what was likely to be an internal monologue that would keep him up all night. He looked up to see Kurt leaning against the door frame. He wondered how long he’d been watching him.

“You’re still here,” Blaine said.

“I came back to help your mom clean up, but she shooed me away,” Kurt said, “and I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

“Kurt, I told you—“

“You told everyone else not to get you anything,” Kurt said walking into the room and sitting next to Blaine on the bed, “But I’m your best friend, so the rules don’t apply to me.”

Blaine laughed, “Really now?”

“Besides,” Kurt continued, “I saw it online and I was certain that if I didn’t get it for you the world would implode so, happy birthday!”

From the spot next to him on the bed, Kurt revealed a tiny box wrapped in shiny red paper with a blue ribbon. Blaine took it carefully from Kurt’s hand and slowly pulled the paper away to reveal a black box. Giving Kurt a curious glance, he opened the box to and gave an excited, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” when he saw the bowtie that was inside—the one that was a picture of Nicole Kidman, as Satine from Moulin Rouge.

“Kurt, this is amazing,” Blaine said feeling the material between his fingers, “Thank you!”

“I almost bought one for myself, but I figured I could just borrow yours. So if it goes missing, you’ll likely find it on my dresser,” Kurt said, “Or around my neck.”

“I’d say all you have to do is ask,” Blaine said teasing, “But I know you won’t.”

“You’re right,” Kurt said, “Hey! Did you want to talk to me about something earlier?”

“Oh, yeah. I did—I do,” Blaine said getting up and moving towards the window across from Kurt and turning to his best friend, his stomach in knots, and his bottom lip worrying between his teeth as he tried to figure out how to do this. He’d thought before that the moment had passed, but maybe it was the universe’s way of telling him that a crowded room wasn’t the right time to tell Kurt his most treasured secret, “I just don’t know how.”

“Blaine?” Kurt asked nervously, “Is everything alright?”

Blaine opened his mouth, once, twice, a third time as the look of tension grew on Kurt’s face before he was finally able to find his voice, though much quieter than the feelings that were about to explode out of him.

“I love you.”

Kurt’s face relaxed a bit, “Oh. I love you, too.”

“No, Kurt,” Blaine said, slightly frustrated that the simple act of saying those words hadn’t done their job, but as he felt the courage begin to fade, he needed for Kurt to understand, “I _love_ you. I’m _in love_ with you.”

Kurt’s eyes shot wide and Blaine was certain that he could feel everything begin to crumble around him. He could feel the last seven years of their lives beginning to lead up to this moment where Kurt walked away and never turned back. Blaine wrapped his arms around his middle hoping that he could keep himself together long enough for Kurt to retreat back across the street.

“Blaine,” Kurt finally spoke, his voice a whisper, “You’re my best friend.”

“I know. And you’re mine. And that’s what makes this a thousand times harder to say because if you don’t feel the same way, then I could have just ruined everything—which is so much worse than you not feeling the same way. I don’t know how I’d get over that. But I can’t keep the way I feel about you a secret anymore. I don’t want to.”

Kurt looked at Blaine for a moment, silently holding his gaze; then he fixed his eyes on his hands that were folded in his lap. Blaine thought about apologizing, about taking it all back, but there was no way back from this. And he really didn’t want to go back. He’d been in love with Kurt Hummel for so long, going back meant not knowing Kurt, and that idea terrified him more than his overwhelming love had. After what felt like a life time Kurt finally looked back up, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he asked, “Why?”

Blaine resisted the urge to run to Kurt’s side, to hold him until the tears went away, “Why what?”

 _Why did you tell me? Why did you ruin everything? Why couldn’t you have kept this to yourself?_ Blaine’s imagination went wild in the few moments it took Kurt to answer.

“Why do you love me?”

Slightly relieved, Blaine smiled. This was easy, “Because you’re the best person I’ve ever met in  my entire life. You’re sweet and compassionate; you’re strong and determined. You’re passion for life and for the people and things you love is inspiring. It moves me, Kurt. You move me. I never feel safer than when I’m with you because I know that you understand me, better than anyone else. And that you don’t judge me despite my flaws. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. I just really don’t want to lose—“

“Blaine?” Kurt interrupted wiping the tears from his cheeks just before fresh ones fell.

“Yeah?”

Kurt took a deep breath and the corners of his mouth turned up every so slowly, “I’m in love with you, too.”

The air left Blaine’s lungs in a rush and the tears began to form in his own eyes. He’d imagined this moment so many times that he wasn’t even sure if it was real, “I—you are?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, taking a deep breath, like it was the first real breath he’d taken in a long time, “I have for a really long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said as a quiet plea that Kurt thankfully understood as he stood up and took the few steps that separated them until they were standing directly in front of each other.

“I just really don’t want to screw this up,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine reached down and grabbed Kurt’s hand, linking their fingers together and bringing their joined hands up and pressed them against his chest, “We won’t.”

And then he kissed him. He kissed Kurt because he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been dreaming about what it would be like to kiss Kurt for so long and now that he knew that Kurt felt the same way, that he wanted the same things, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Kurt’s because he knew that doing so wouldn’t ruin everything. Instead they would be growing into something different, something stronger. Something Blaine was very excited about.

“Thank you for telling me,” Kurt said as he pulled away and rested his forehead against Blaine’s.

“Thank you for loving me back.”

* * *

_364 Days Later…_

“Mr. Schuester just told me that you aren’t going to be in Glee rehearsal today.”

Kurt sighed as Rachel Berry appeared next to him at his locker while he was switching out his Geometry textbook for his History one. One more period of listening to Mr. Kelch ramble on about the American Revolution and then his dad would be picking him up and they would be on their way to Columbus. His stomach was in knots and he couldn’t actually concentrate on anything that was happening during class, but his father insisted that he not miss the entire day of school. Kurt wasn’t really in agreement, but he trudged through his morning classes if only to make the day go by quicker. But it had been crawling.

“I’m not.”

“Kurt!” Rachel cried, “It’s important that we rehearse as a team as much as possible before Sectionals.”

Kurt sighed again, “Rachel, it’s the third week of school and Sectionals aren’t until November. I can miss one day of Mr. Schue’s weekly lecture about how great things were when he was in Glee club.”

“Are you going to at least tell me what is so important that you have to miss rehearsal?”

Kurt didn’t owe Rachel, as co-captain of the Glee club, an explanation. He was as devoted to the club this year as he was last, but today was important. Maybe more important than any other day in his life. But maybe he did owe an explanation to Rachel, his friend. Besides, it wasn’t like it was a secret.

“My dad and I are driving to Columbus. Today is Blaine’s birthday.”

It had taken a lot of digging and more phone calls and emails than Kurt thought he’d ever make or send in his life, but a few months ago Burt was finally able to figure out where Blaine was. And the lady on phone so kindly also let slip that he would be going up for auction on his birthday, at Columbus City Hall. They had no idea how much the bidding for Blaine would start at, but they’d been saving, and Kurt was pretty sure his father had taken out a loan just in case. Every penny found on the sidewalk went into a fund so that they could bring Blaine home. It was the only thing that got Kurt through the last year without his best friend. He just had to hope that it would be enough.

“Blaine?” Rachel questioned, “Oh, the boy whose parents died last year?”

Kurt hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming about things with Blaine. Last year, everyone knew Kurt and Blaine were friends, but now—for everyone except himself—Blaine had been forgotten. Blaine hadn’t been there when he joined the New Directions and made something that resembled a family—as dysfunctional as they were. His friends didn’t know about Kurt and Blaine, they just knew about Kurt. But all the while Blaine was with Kurt in the back of his mind. He thought about what Blaine would have to say about his solos, and what solos Blaine would sing. It should be Blaine sitting next to him all the time in rehearsal, and it should have been Blaine he hugged after they’d won sectionals the year before, and Blaine he should have cried with when they’d lost regionals—and almost lost the club. Kurt was grateful that he’d found New Directions when he did, but having all of those experiences without Blaine at his side—without him to talk to about everything—made Kurt both sad and incredibly guilty.  But there were only hours left before the auction and then Blaine could come home. And then Kurt could start making up, at least a small bit, for the last year that Blaine had been gone.

“Yes,” Kurt answered simply.

Kurt could see the fountain of questions Rachel wanted to ask working their way through her brain. Thankfully, they hadn’t managed to reach her tongue before the warning bell rang. Kurt sighed. Forty-seven more minutes. Forty-seven more minutes and he’d be on his way to Blaine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel,” Kurt said closing his locker and walking away.

But if he had his way, he’d stay home tomorrow. He’d stay home with Blaine.

* * *

There weren’t many words spoken on the drive to Columbus.  The radio played softly between them, but there wasn’t anything to say, at least not out loud.  Kurt tucked himself into the passenger’s seat and sat read the book for the English class he was missing. He thought that the book would distract him, that it would calm the buzzing that had been building inside him with such intensity for the last few days. But he’d barely gotten past the first sentence before his attention was gone and there was no way to control the anticipation that was building in his gut, or in his heart. He glanced over at his father, Burt’s focus on the road, his tight grip on the steering wheel, and Kurt knew that the same thoughts were running through his father’s head that were in his own—and they were just as loud.

What would Blaine look like? What would he _be_ like? Would he be the same lovable Blaine that Kurt knew so well? How had the last year changed him?

The tears built behind Kurt’s eyes as he let his mind try to imagine the moment he saw Blaine again—the moment he could hug him again. Over the last year he’d done his best not to think about all of that because it was so far away, so abstract. Because when he did the longing that he felt for his best friend was suffocating. It choked him until he was sobbing in his bed, gasping for a real breath and the tears soaked his pillow. But as his dad pulled the truck into the crowded parking lot of Columbus City Hall, things were suddenly more than tangible. Inside the big white stone building with tall windows, was Blaine. Kurt inspected the building with eager eyes. This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for for the last three hundred and sixty-four days.

He glanced at the clock inside the truck, 2:45. There were only fifteen more minutes before the auction started.

Kurt jumped out of the truck like it was about to explode, and was headed towards the door before his father could even get his seatbelt off. He didn’t stop until he reached the entrance, only waiting for his father because he wasn’t eighteen and couldn’t register for the auction. When Burt finally caught up, he added his name to the list and then he and Kurt followed the signs that directed them to the auction room. The overzealousness turned to panic as the other side of a set of double doors revealed hundreds of people seated around a podium and a raised circle platform in the center of the room. This was where they would show Blaine off; it was where Kurt was going to see Blaine again for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

* * *

Burt led his son through the crowd, trying to find a seat close to the front. A strong opponent of slavery, and not one who could really afford it, Burt had never been to an auction before. He’d heard whispers about them—stories told as gossip when so and so bought a new slave when they already had so many, or when a slave rebelled and had to be restrained—people like the drama of it all. Burt hoped this was the first, and very last time, he would ever have to step foot in a room like this. He found two seats a dozen or so rows from the front and sat down, pulling Kurt down next to him. Kurt’s knees bounced and Burt resisted the urge to tell his son to stop being so fidgety. But Burt knew that he himself was as nervous as Kurt was. They had done everything they could over the last year to save every penny so that they could get Blaine, so they could  _buy_ Blaine. And today they’d find out if it was enough. He could tell from the way the other people in the room were dressed, and the way the held themselves, that they had money; a lot of it. More than Burt did.  What if someone outbid him and the price for the boy went beyond what he was able to offer? What would that do to Kurt? Or Blaine? Or himself? He loved Blaine like a son; he had since his very first tea party with Kurt. It had been so good to see his son smile so big for the first time since his mom had died. It killed him to know that Blaine’s parents had left him without a plan, without a future. It had broken his heart to have to tell Blaine that his family was dead, and then watch being forced out of the only home he had left. He’d signed every anti-slavery petition he could find, gone to every rally in Lima. But the law was still as unjust as it always had been. This was the only option they had to bring Blaine home.

* * *

The sound of the door opening brought everyone’s attention to the center of the room and the raised platform. A tall redhead that Kurt recognized from television stood in her black pinstriped pant suit, her hands clasped in front of her as she explained how the auction would work. Each salve would enter, bidding would start at a predetermined price, and the auction would go until there was an uncontested bid. There would be no physical examination of the slave, and the skills and credentials for each slave would be provided before the bidding began. She asked for questions and when the room remained silent, the auction began.

Kurt had never been more revolted in his life. He’d been against slavery his entire life, told by his mother and father that it was wrong and that they were people just like he was. That it wasn’t right to take away their identities and their lives.  But seeing it firsthand nearly made him sick. Starting with an eight year old girl with dark brown hair and continuing through six more boys and girls—none older than thirteen—each slave paraded out into the middle of the room, looking as if they weren’t about to be sentenced to a life of oppression. They were all impeccably dressed and well groomed. The only thing that gave off any misgiving were the looks on their faces. Even though they tried to smile like this was a beauty pageant, there was a somberness that couldn’t be erased; sadness in their eyes that had been put there by a set of unfortunate circumstances. They’d lost their families and their futures were gone too. Sold to the highest bidder.

He wanted to buy them all, take them all home and remind them that there were people who cared, that there were people who were fighting to save them. But he couldn’t. Because they’d come only for Blaine, and Kurt was beginning to get impatient. Then Ms. Clark announced they had one final auction.

The door opened again and Kurt’s heart stopped and the tears were rolling down his cheeks before he even knew what was happening. Because there was Blaine. For the first time in three hundred and sixty-four days, he was seeing Blaine. He’d been so worried about his best friend, unable to communicate with him, unable to know if he was alright. Not knowing if he was hurt, or worse. But as tragic as the circumstances were, seeing Blaine again made the tightness in Kurt’s chest that had been constant for the last year release just a little. Blaine was okay. His hair was done up with a little too much hair gel, like it always had been, and the clothes he was wearing were the same that he’d left the Hummel’s house in. He looked just like Blaine, the beautiful boy that Kurt couldn’t imagine his life without…until their eyes locked.

* * *

Blaine was certain that he was seeing things. That the last year of his life had finally caught up to him and that he was hallucinating. Or maybe it was a very vivid dream. Maybe he really wasn’t at city hall about to be auctioned off. Maybe he was back in his bunk and when he woke he’d still be inside that bland room made of concrete listening to Sam snore. But when his eyes met Kurt’s, he knew he was awake, that all of this was real. Because there was neither a dream nor a hallucination that could properly replicate the blue of Kurt’s eyes—even from a distance. There wasn’t a figment of his imagination that could copy Kurt Hummel into anything that was at all like the real thing. Seeing Kurt again after so long was like taking a deep breath. But then he was struck with an urge to run away, to curl up in the corner and scream out. Because he’d spent so much time—so many sleepless nights—convincing himself that he’d never see Kurt again. And as his training continued, he’d convinced himself that it was for the best. That he never wanted Kurt to see him now that he’d become something so different than the boy they’d taken away. But here he was—with Burt. The only question was, why?

* * *

The urge to jump from his seat and into Blaine’s arms was nearly overwhelming. Sitting still was almost as hard as watching Blaine go had been. Kurt’s every fiber yearned to go to Blaine, to hold him and never let him go. But he couldn’t, not yet. So while his heart began to race in his chest, Kurt just watched Blaine, studying him. He looked older—like he’d grown more than just the year that had separated him. He looked thinner and taller, but he still looked just like Blaine. But there was something about his eyes. They’d always been able to capture Kurt and pull him into Blaine. Kurt remembered that the first time he looked at Blaine and really saw how gorgeous he was, he started with his eyes. He’d always known Blaine had a beautiful heart but seeing the rest of him that way had been startling, but he’d let the thoughts settle into him until they warmed him like the summer sun. He should have told Blaine before he left. But with their separation looming over their heads, it wasn’t fair to either of them.  But now Blaine’s eyes just made him sad. And he wondered if Blaine was sad too. Kurt clasped his hands together in his lap, his nails digging into the skin of his hand as he tried to be patient, for the auction to begin, and for them to be able to take Blaine home where maybe his head wouldn’t look so sad anymore.

Ms. Clarke captured the audience as she introduced the final auction. Name, Blaine Anderson; Age, 16; Excelled in cooking, cleaning, sewing, music—especially piano and singing; Comes highly recommended from Mr. Gertie.

Kurt had no idea who that was, or what that really meant, but from the murmur floating across the room, many of the others did.

“We’ll start the bidding at $5, 000,” Ms. Clarke announced.

Excitement, anticipation, fear and panic nestled themselves inside Kurt the moment his father’s arm was raised in the air, his paddle with the number 21 signally him entering the bid. Kurt thought he heard Blaine gasp, but the boy was too far away; much too far away.

“$5, 000,” Ms. Clarke said acknowledging Burt’s bid, “Do I hear $6,000?”

It was quiet for a moment and could feel the beginnings of relief wash over him. Not only would they get to bring Blaine home, but they wouldn’t have to use all the money they had. Bringing Blaine home was priceless, but if they could give the loan back to the bank, it would make everything so much easier on them.

“$7, 500,” a voice said.

Kurt’s stomach dropped as he and Blaine both looked in the direction of the voice at the same time. He his eyes fell on paddle number 19, belonging to June Dolloway, One of Ohio’s richest residents.

No, Kurt thought. No. No. No. No. No.

“$8, 000,” Burt countered and Kurt was sure that his heart was going to race right out of his chest. Either that or it was going to stop completely. This wasn’t happening! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“$9,000.”

“$11,000.”

“$15,000.”

“$16,000”

“$18,000.”

“$18,500.”

Kurt knew that they were running out of room to be aggressive, that they’d nearly reached the amount of money that his father had in his wallet. He tried to suppress a whimper, but he failed, and it came out along with his ragged breath. They were going to lose Blaine. Blaine would go home with some rich old lady. And maybe she’d be good to him. Maybe she’d wouldn’t hurt him and let him sing and dance around the kitchen sometimes. Maybe she’d hold his hand when he was scared at night. But she couldn’t love him the way Kurt and his father could. She didn’t know his favorite color was purple or green, depending on the day. She didn’t know that if he was quiet, it just meant that he was thinking about something important. She didn’t know Blaine like Kurt did, she didn’t love him the way he deserved to be loved. He looked over and his eyes locked with the old woman’s. Her face was stern and her eyes were beady. He knew there were tears in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks and he did his best to silently plead “Please don’t take my best friend away from me! Not again!”

And then she broke eye contact with Kurt and looked up at Ms. Clarke, and then shook her head.

She was no longer in the race.

Ms. Clarke called for any additional bidders and Kurt vowed to strangle anyone who dare open their mouth or raise their hand or do anything that could jeopardize their chance of bringing Blaine home.  When no one spoke, Ms. Clarke declared Bur the highest bidder and informed all the winners of today’s auctions that their prizes could be paid for and picked up at the registrar’s office. When Blaine disappeared again behind the door he’d entered, Kurt put his head in his hands and began to sob.

After a year of waiting, Kurt let the relief overwhelm him, let it tingle on his skin and pour from his eyes in the form of warm tears. So many nights he’d spent lying awake, thinking about what was happening to Blaine. He wondered if he was afraid, if he was cold or hurt. But the year of waiting and wondering was over, Blaine was coming home. And he could see for himself if he was alright. And he could be because he was with his family, the only people left in the world who loved him.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, Kurt turned to find his father with tears pooled in his eyes. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen his father cry, but he knew he was as relieved as he was. He loved Blaine like a son and he’d been able to do the one thing Blaine’s own father couldn’t—make sure he was safe.

“Let’s go get our boy,” Burt said, “He’s finally coming home.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt ran his hand over his face in an attempt to push away the last bit of sleepiness that hadn’t seemed to disappear despite the coffee he’d had that morning, or the fact that it was almost lunch time. But he supposed that’s what happened when you’ve barely slept at night. It wasn’t that Kurt hadn’t tried. Every night he’d get into bed, close his eyes and then be unable to let sleep find him. Instead, his mind would wander, to Blaine, who was probably sound asleep down the hall. Kurt was grateful that Blaine was home, finally, but he’d been home for three weeks and Kurt had yet to so much as make eye contact with his best friend. Blaine never addressed Kurt, only the elder Hummel, and only by Master in a small whispered tone, his eyes focused on the floor. The whole exchange left a rotten feeling inside Kurt.

For the first week that Blaine was home, Kurt understood Blaine’s distance. Blaine had gone through something that Kurt was never going to understand, and adjusting back into his life wasn’t going to be easy. So when Blaine flinched and excused himself from the room when Kurt tried to talk to him about a song they were doing in Glee club—a song that was one of Blaine’s favorites—Kurt just smiled sadly and told himself to wait it out. That Blaine would come around soon.

But now two weeks later, Blaine was still as distant and reserved as ever, and nothing like the Blaine Anderson Kurt had known for the last nine years of his life. He was nothing like the boy who used to say that singing while doing homework helped him learn more; the boy who used to show up to his house on Sunday mornings, after they’d spent Saturday apart, with more cookies than either of them should eat; the boy who he’d come out to before anyone else in a whispered voice in his bedroom just months before Blaine as taken away; the boy who had made his heart leap and then flutter uncontrollably with just the simplest of smiles. That Blaine seemed to be long gone, and his in his place, a stranger.

When he’d told his father about everything the night before, just after Blaine had gone to bed. Burt took a deep breath that Kurt immediately recognized as a preamble for one of his father’s famous talks. Then he sat Kurt down at the kitchen table.

“Look, Kurt,” he’d said, “You and I both know that this thing with Blaine, it’s different. It’s different for us, and it’s different than what he’s been trainin’ to do for the last year. So I told him that he doesn’t have to do anything that he’s not comfortable with.”

“You-you talked to him?” Kurt questioned, his voice teetering between concern and jealousy. Why could Blaine talk to his father and not to him?

“He’s not as chatty as used to be, but Kurt, you’ve gotta give him some time. We don’t know what the last year has been like for him.”

“But you talked to him?” Kurt interrogated, “I mean he talked to you?”

“I didn’t get much more than a few ‘yes, sir’s out of him, Kurt. We may have gotten him instead of that June Dolloway broad, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to adjust any faster to us. Things aren’t the same for him anymore, kid. No matter how much we try to make everything normal, a lot has changed.  So let him be for right now, Kurt. When he’s ready to talk to you, he will.”

His father’s words did nothing for the aching inside Kurt’s chest. He missed his best friend, his best friend that was living in his house, and there was nothing he could do. And even more frightening were the questions that were bouncing around Kurt’s head with no way of escaping because there was no way to get answers. What had happened to Blaine? What were they doing to those kids that would make Blaine not trust the one person he’d trusted for most of his life?

At his locker, Kurt switched out his history text book for his English one while making a silent plea to the universe to make this class—and the rest of the day—go by in a blur. It was Thursday and he had Glee rehearsal after school, but he looked forward to the moment he could get into his bed and hopefully sleep. Or better yet, the moment he could come home and Blaine would be waiting there for him. But neither of those options really seemed possible at the moment.

“Kurt,” a voice chimed that immediately Kurt recognized as Rachel’s, and rolled his eyes before turning to her. He was definitely not in the mood for this, “I need you to ask your father about hosting a sleepover for the Glee club Saturday night.”

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, not the entire club,” Rachel continued, “I think it would be good for the team if we took a night before sectionals to bond over hair and makeup and boys. The girls will gather at your place and I’ve asked Finn to do the same with the boys.”

“Why can’t you have this at your house?”

“I’ve already asked, but my dads are hosting a dinner for Rabbi Goldstein and a few of the others on the board at the community center so my house will already be occupied.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Kurt said. In fact, he was certain it was a terrible idea. Even if the idea of spending the night surrounded by the girls of New Directions didn’t sound like a complete disaster, he wouldn’t know what to do about Blaine.

It wasn’t that no one knew that Blaine was there—and that he had been bought—but he hadn’t had any guests over to the house since Blaine got home and he didn’t know how Blaine would react.

“Please, Kurt,” Rachel begged, “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important for the team.”

Kurt sighed, “Fine, I’ll ask my dad.”

“Yes!” Rachel squealed in the middle of the hallway and then leaned up to hug and kiss Kurt on the cheek, “You’re wonderful. Did you know that?”

Before he could respond, Rachel was practically skipping down the hallway and a headache joined the sleepiness that had been ailing Kurt. As the warning bell rang he made a mental note to text his father during lunch about the sleepover, and then pray the he said no.

* * *

Blaine’s mornings were pretty simple: up at dawn, bathed and dressed a short time later, make sure breakfast was ready before Master and Master’s son woke up. And once they were both out of the house at work and school—and the table had been cleared—then it was time for his morning chores. It wasn’t a long list, Master’s house wasn’t very big and it was only lived in by he and his son, so there wasn’t much daily clean up. But today Blaine thought he’d clean up the leaves that had begun to fall from the tree in the backyard and then mow the lawn. Master didn’t leave him with much direction when he left, so it was up to Blaine to keep himself working.

As he dried the last of the dishes, he failed to push back the memory that had begun to play out in his head. The one of himself and Kurt in the backyard the summer before high school—their last summer together—talking about their wishes and dreams. About how they’d graduate high school and get the hell out of Lima, together. It had been a great day, but now it only brought Blaine sadness. Because everything had changed. Before he could let his mind wander any further, Blaine pushed his thoughts back to the present. The boy he was in that memory didn’t exist anymore.

Blaine opened the front door of Master’s house but only put one step over the threshold before something across the street caught his attention and stopped him where he stood. There was a woman, probably in her mid-to-late twenties, who was sitting in the grass playing with her son who couldn’t have been more than two. They were sitting underneath the tree that was in front of the house that he had once called home. He’d been at Master’s house for weeks, but this was the first time that Blaine had allowed himself to look across the street, to see what had become of his home. And just like everything else, it felt foreign. The house was once lived in by Blaine Anderson, and now Blaine Anderson no longer existed. He died on his fifteenth birthday.

In his place now was a shell of a boy. He had no name, no life of his own. He wasn’t Blaine, son and brother; he wasn’t Blaine, the boy across the street; he wasn’t Blaine, Kurt Hummel’s best friend. He was nothing more than a thing that _belonged_ to someone else. A thing that could be used and abused. And he didn’t matter that he’d gotten lucky, and that the people who bought him up were kind to him, who had known him in his previous life. But he couldn’t take any of his old life with him into the new one he as viciously struggling to adjust to. He couldn’t think about the memories the house he lived in brought him. Who he once called Burt, he now called Master. And if he took the risk of speaking to Kurt, he‘d call him Master’s son. But just looking at Kurt made it impossible to forget who he once was and filled him with a longing he’d never stop feeling. Truthfully, the fact that Burt Hummel had been the one to take him home on Auction Day had been worse than anything he could imagined while he lie awake in that cold concrete room.

Blaine had spent a year imagining that wherever he ended up, he would be able to put his old life completely behind him. He’d be surrounded by people who didn’t know him, people who never cared about him—who would never care about him. He would just be a slave, one of many, and as long as he kept his head down, he’d get through everything just fine. Maybe he’d get through his life with one master, or maybe a few. Then he would die, alone. He no longer had a past, and that was his future. Living in the Hummel house he had to be this new Blaine, slave, inside the world of Blaine Anderson, the son, brother, and best friend. He didn’t belong to that world anymore, and he never would again.

He shook himself from his thoughts and pushed himself the rest of the way out of the house and into the garage.  He shook his head again as he grabbed the rake and the lawn mower from the places he knew they would be.  He growled in frustration when the memory of raking leaves with Kurt, only to have their neat piles completely destroyed when he tackled Kurt into the biggest pile and laughed at the narrow eyes Kurt gave him until his face broke into a smile. He couldn’t keep reaching back and finding that old Blaine. He couldn’t take comfort in his memories; they would only wound him more if he did. He had to focus on who he was now—a slave whose purpose was to serve his Master. As he started for the tree, rake in hand, Blaine promised himself that by the time he walked back into the house, he’d remember who he was, though it would be much easier if he wasn’t constantly surrounded by who he used to be.

* * *

Kurt was certain that his father had been too quick to say yes to his sleepover proposal. It hadn’t exactly been noticeable from his simple text message reply, but the second Kurt walked in the door after Glee rehearsal that night, his father seemed very interested in the Glee club event that would be taking over his house that weekend. He never once mentioned that maybe having so many people in the house, with Blaine still adjusting, wouldn’t be a good idea and when Kurt brought it up in a hushed tone like Blaine hadn’t been up in his room, Burt waved it off.

“Kurt, we’re all adjusting here,” his father had said, “But we can’t stop living our lives now, just like we couldn’t a year ago. You’re going to be okay, Blaine is going to be okay, and I’m going to be okay even if my house is about to be full of teenage girls.”

Kurt just nodded at his father. Maybe Kurt had been spending most of his free time at home since Blaine got back. But he needed to be there if Blaine decided he was ready to talk. And if it meant that he spent most of his time in his room waiting, then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Though he would never go so far as to say that his life was on hold. Life moved on every day. There was still homework and Glee rehearsal and things that marked the passing of time. No, his life wasn’t on hold; he was just waiting for one very big part of it to change.

But when he found himself squished into his living room on a Saturday night, surrounded by the six girls of New Directions, he found himself missing the time he’d spent with them before. Over the last year, while Blaine had been gone, Kurt had come to rely on his motley crew of friends. And even if they never really got a long and if there was always some kind of drama going on, when it came down to it, they had each other’s backs. They’d turned into a family. And they were there for Kurt when he’d needed them the most.

So he let himself have fun. Not that it was hard, but he let the weight that had been sitting on his chest evaporate for a little while while they ate pizza, watched movies, and talked about sectionals. Everyone was excited for the chance to begin the competition season again. It had been cut short from them last year, but maybe this year they could make it all the way to nationals. The thought fueled the fire beneath all of them.

“So are we going to talk about the giraffe in the room?” Brittany asked.

Everyone eyed the bubbly, but not so bright, blonde curiously.

“Blaine!” Brittany said as if it had been totally obvious, “Kurt totally bought a slave and that slave was most definitely in my math class last year. He let me cheat off his homework but he didn’t want to make out with me.”

They’d only been in school a few weeks before everything happened and Kurt was surprised that anyone, especially Brittany, had recognized Blaine when he’d snuck into the kitchen to make himself dinner hours after their pizza had arrived. Blaine had left McKinley before there had been a Glee club and before either of them had a chance to get a grip on high school.  But Brittany had bounced over to him and put half of a pizza in his hand, including the box, before bouncing back to the living room.  Blaine had put the box back down on the table and went back to making himself a sandwich.

“Did you know him, Kurt?” Tina asked, “I mean, from before?”

He’d gotten a lot of attention after Blaine had left. Mostly from people who hadn’t even known either of their names, but had seen them in the hallways together, or had gone to school with them since kindergarten. But McKinley was made up of students from all the surrounding towns, and not everyone knew Kurt and Blaine as the inseparable team they used to be. And since he’d barely spoken about Blaine to any of them, except for Rachel, he realized that answering Tina’s question went beyond a simple yes. There was so much to tell, so much to explain. And he wasn’t sure what he could or should say. For a brief moment, he thought about lying, about telling them that Blaine had been a stranger before he’d entered his house, but the thought alone twisted his gut as if, even if it was only for fleeting moment, had somehow been a betrayal to Blaine and what they’d shared. So he simply nodded.

“I’ve been trying to tell my parents that we need a slave,” Santana said, “My house would always be in impeccable shape, my meals will always be made for me, my homework would be done, and if they’re hot I’d always have someone to make out with when I need to digest my food.”

“We had one when I was little,” Quinn chimed in, “My mom said she was used and she didn’t like her. So she sent her away.”

 “You’re lucky, Hummel. You got a brand new one! All shiny and adorable,” Santana said, “You can use him and abuse him and then send him off when you find something more sparkly and new to play with.”

He’d always known Santana to be blunt and, most of the time, out of line, but his jaw still dropped at her words. From behind him he heard a gasp and the sound of something falling to the kitchen table. When he looked behind him, Blaine was in the kitchen again, cleaning up the mess they’d left on the table. His eyes were wide and wild and they met Kurt’s for the briefest moment before he turned back to his work, picking up the pizza boxes that he’d dropped when Santana had spoken. Kurt’s heart clenched in his chest as he turned back to Santana. If he thought Blaine would let him, he’d go to him and gather him in his arms.

“He’s never going anywhere,” Kurt said. His voice loud enough so that Blaine could hear him, his words sharp enough so that, he hoped, they dug into Blaine’s head and that he believed them. Because no one was going to hurt Blaine, not again, and certainly in this house. He’d been disgusted that Santana had even said such a thing, like Kurt was a violent person.

When he turned back to the kitchen Blaine, and all the pizza boxes, were gone.

* * *

The soft glow of the television was the only thing that illuminated the litter of sleeping bodies that filled the Hummel’s living room. Everyone was asleep, except Kurt. It was going to be another long night of tossing and turning—in a very enclosed space—for him again. Tonight the words Santana had said earlier played over and over in his head and the guilt he felt because Blaine had heard them ran through every one of his nerves. He wanted to go to Blaine’s room, apologize to him for what Santana had said. To remind Blaine that in this house, things were different.  That neither he nor his father would ever hurt him. And they would never give him away. That they both loved him just as much as they always had. But it was nearly three am and if Blaine wouldn’t talk to him in the light of day, he wouldn’t be too happy with being woken in the middle of the night.

Instead, Kurt cleverly maneuvered himself from beneath the blankets—and Rachel’s leg—and padded into the dark kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, determined to try some warm milk to help him drift off to sleep. The light from the inside of the refrigerator cast shadows through the kitchen, but in the dim light Kurt noticed that someone was standing at the other end of the kitchen, leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around his middle. In the dim light, Kurt could see Blaine, his eyes not looking at Kurt, but at some spot at his feet. Kurt noticed that Blaine didn’t look rumpled from sleep, but that, like Kurt, he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

“Hi,” Kurt said. This was the first time they were this close and alone since Blaine had gotten home. He hadn’t had a chance to say a single word to him since the car ride back from Columbus where Burt had stopped Kurt from talking a mile a minute as Blaine just sat in the backseat, quiet.

Blaine didn’t answer.

“Right,” Kurt muttered to himself. He grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and then closed the door bathing the room in darkness again until he turned on the light above the stove.  Blaine still remained against in the shadows against the wall.

“I’m sorry about what Santana said earlier,” Kurt said even though Blaine hadn’t responded to anything Kurt said. But he was still in the room and if he didn’t know if he was ever going to get a chance to talk to Blaine like this again, “You know that the rules don’t really apply here, right? Not when it comes to me and my dad at least. You know we’re not going to hurt you or send you away?

Blaine continued to stand silently against the wall, like he was waiting to be dismissed and couldn’t leave until Kurt said it was okay. But Kurt couldn’t bring himself to dismiss Blaine. Even if he wouldn’t talk to Kurt, there was something oddly relaxing about having Blaine in the same room, only a few feet away.  Kurt went to work pouring the milk into a pan and igniting the flame beneath it on the stove. Blaine never moved and they stood in silence until Kurt’s milk warmed and he poured it into a mug. If this had been two years prior, he would have made a cup for Blaine, or they would have shared the one in Kurt’s hand. But now Kurt wasn’t sure how Blaine would react to something as simple as being offered milk, but there was a little left in the pan.

“I worry about you,” Kurt whispered cradling the mug in his hand, “I stay awake almost every night worrying about you and you’re right down the hall. I worry that you’re not okay, and I don’t know that you’re not okay because you won’t tell me. You won’t even look at me. You used to tell me everything and I haven’t gotten a syllable from you in over a year,” Kurt’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath to push away the tears before continuing, “I know dad said—and he’s right—that you’ll come to me in your own time, that I shouldn’t push you. But I miss you, Blaine. I somehow miss you now more than I did when you were gone.  And no one seems to care that I’m hurting too. I know it doesn’t even compare to what you’ve—what you are going through—but I _really_ miss my best friend. Just—know that I’m here, okay? Just know that.”

When Blaine nodded the small, simple gesture made Kurt’s heart ache. Before Kurt could say another word, Blaine disappeared back towards the stairs. Forgetting about his milk, Kurt walked back to the cluster of girls in his living room and slipped in under the covers. He turned the TV off and rolled onto his side, facing Quinn’s head instead of Rachel. In the darkness and the quiet of the house, the tears he’d been fighting began to cascade down Kurt’s face in silent frustration. He hated what had happened to Blaine; he hated what they had become because of it. He was surrounded by people who loved him, but he’d never felt so alone. He wanted his best friend back.

Kurt fell asleep as the tears began to cool and dry on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

_Somewhere There’s a World…_

Blaine knew the moment they stepped off the stage that they had won. He could feel it in the way his heart beat, the way his entire body felt alive, and the way Kurt smiled at him before crashing into his arms. They’d done it. Constant arguing over the set list and relentless practice had paid off, and the New Directions had won sectionals.

Now they were all back on the bus, about to embark on the journey back to Lima. For the first half of the two hour ride, the energy was high. There was more singing and dancing, everyone had a reason to celebrate. But now as the last of the sun was setting ahead of them, a sleepy silence fell over the entire bus, and most of the conversation was held in hushed tones.

“I told you,” Blaine said softly in the seat he shared with Kurt in the back of the bus.

“Hmm,” Kurt inquired not moving his head from where it rested against Blaine’s shoulder.

“On my birthday. I told you we were going to win sectionals,” Blaine whispered, “And here we are.”

“You also told me that you loved me,” Kurt said turning his head so that he could look at Blaine, a thrilled smiled on his face.

“I did,” Blaine confirmed reaching down and taking Kurt’s hand in his own, tangling their fingers together as they rested against Kurt’s thigh, “I do.”

Kurt leaned up and placed a sweet kiss against Blaine’s lips, relishing in the smile that pressed against his own and the warmth that washed over him. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been happier. He was in love and someone loved him back just as much. And he even got a trophy.

“Ugh, I can hear you two making out back there,” Santana called from a few seats in front of them, “Could you keep the face sucking to a minimum until you’re in the privacy of your own home?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and gave Blaine another quick kiss, then returned his head to the comfort of Blaine’s shoulder.

* * *

They spend an entire week and half during training explaining evaluations: how they work, what they mean, what can happen if they go right, or terribly wrong. Today was Blaine’s first evaluation. It was also the day of the sectional competition.

The house was eerily quiet as Blaine stood in the now empty dining room beginning to clean up after breakfast. Master’s son had left a little while ago, accompanied by Rachel and Finn. Shortly after the visitors had arrived, Blaine made them all breakfast while Master’s son and Finn did their best to calm Rachel’s pre-competition jitters. Yes, they had the right set list; yes, the choreography was good. Blaine did his best to push away the jealousy that twisted around his heart from the reminder that, had things been different, he would have joined them at the table and would have been excited for the first competition of the season. But he shoved every last bit of the envy away and scolded himself. Those feelings belonged to Old Blaine. Instead he poured the coffee and tried not to notice the way Kurt’s eyes followed him sadly around the room.

Now that they were gone, and Master was upstairs dressing for the evaluation, the quiet chaos calmed and the tension began to build and Blaine’s insides were twisted in knots. He had one hour to clean up before Ms. Clark would be there to more or less interview Master about Blaine’s performance over the last month.  It was part of every slave’s life, and the only relief Blaine got was because Kurt wasn’t going to be around to witness it.

Evaluations came after the first month that a slave was with a single master, and then sporadically for two years after that—assuming that the slave stayed with the same master for that long. This meeting was the master’s chance to voice any complaints they had about their slave, and it would be the job of the evaluators to record it in the slave’s file and determine the consequences—which varied  in severity. And it was unheard of for any evaluator to give out free passes. This was also the most frequent time that a master could begin the process of selling their slaves back to the government—for less than they paid, of course. The paperwork was immediately filed, and within a week, unwanted slaves were back in the system and up for auction. But like all things new, once they weren’t any more they depreciated in value and in appeal, and it was harder for them to be sold. Blaine had never really gotten an answer as to what happened to those who became unsellable.

“Blaine?”

Blaine jumped at the sound of his name, then stood paralyzed over the dining room table with a plate in each hand. His heart hammered in his chest and the dread crawled over him from head to toe like dozen of tiny spiders as he peered, wild eyed, at Master who had come into the dining room while Blaine had been busy with his own thoughts. He remembered the instructor, Mr. Gertie, who had told them that having a single thought that deviated from what Master needed would result in disciplinary actions. He’d just thought about that day after his run in with Kurt in the kitchen, how could he be so careless as to take time for his own thoughts on the day of his first evaluation? Master catching him like this could be the thing that got him on the next bus back to Columbus. His entire body shook with the idea.

“Whoa, Blaine,” Burt said stepping toward him, but the movement only caused Blaine to take a precautious step back.  Burt hesitantly reached forward to take the plates from Blaine’s hands, whose gaze had fallen to the ground, “You’re okay.”

Except he didn’t feel okay. He didn’t feel anything but the drumming of his heart in his chest, and the woozy feeling that suggested that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself on his feet for much longer, “I-I’m sorry,  Master,” Blaine said, his voice rushed and strained, his eyes still focused on the floor.

Burt sighed sadly, “Nothing to worry about, kid. We all space out every now and then. And what did I tell you about that Master stuff? You haven’t even called me Mr. Hummel since you were eleven, you don’t need to call me Master, or sir, or any of that nonsense unless one of those evaluators are in the house.  Blaine, you do understand that, right?”

Blaine remained quiet, not looking at Master. In a life long ago, he trusted the man in front of him more than almost any other adult in his life. He’d offered a safe place when he was away from home—even if home was just across the street. Old Blaine would have smiled and nodded, then gone upstairs to hang out with Kurt. Old Blaine would have trusted without a moment of hesitation when Burt said the rules didn’t apply, the same way Kurt had.  It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what he was being told, it was that he didn’t know how to trust anything in the life he had now. Even if Master meant the words he was saying, the laws were the laws and could change at any time. And the promises that were being made would have to be broken.  And that was surely to leave him infinitely more destroyed.

“Blaine,” Burt continued after Blaine’s silence, “Stop worrying. There is not a damn thing you could do to make me send you back to them. I’m going to tell Ms. Clark what a great job you’ve been doing around here and then I want you to do something like an actual sixteen year old. Watch a movie, or TV, read a book or raid Kurt’s closet. I don’t care.

Blaine almost scoffed. Kurt wouldn’t be pleased if any version of Blaine went through his closet.

“I know there are things you’ve gotta do because you’ve been trained that you should,” Burt continued, “Because there are rules. But I have rules too, for when there aren’t eyes on us. And I know it’s going to take some getting used to be, but I’d like for you to follow them. In case you haven’t noticed, Blaine, there isn’t a ton for you to do around here. Kurt and I, we don’t really need a slave.”

Blaine finally looked up at Burt, his eyes wide and bewildered, as the ache in his chest intensified. If they hadn’t wanted him, why was he there? Why had they driven all the way to Columbus and paid more money than Blaine knew they had to take him home if they didn’t want him? Why were they making promises when they didn’t even want him there? Why hadn’t they just let him go to someone else where he could forget about every memory their house kept tightly sealed within its walls?

 “We don’t need a slave,” Burt repeated, “But what we do need is you, Blaine. Maybe Kurt more than anyone. We brought you back here because we needed to make sure you were okay. You understand that don’t you?”

Blaine was quiet for a moment, shrugged, then grabbed he plates from Master’s hands and disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

When Ms. Clark arrived, exactly on time, Blaine greeted her politely, though she didn’t return the sentiment. He took her coat, made sure the coffee was in the family room, and then excused himself to his room. He wasn’t allowed to be there during the actual evaluation. All the critique was going to come down to how Burt answered a series of standard questions. But just because he couldn’t join them didn’t meant he couldn’t sit quietly on the floor next to the door and try to listen to what they were saying—what  _Burt_ was saying. But all that Blaine heard were murmurs, so he gave up after half an hour. It didn’t matter; nothing he did was going to change the outcome of this evaluation.

Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and thought about what Burt had said earlier—about he and Kurt not needing a slave, but needing Blaine instead.

Over the last year Blaine had learned how to stop wanting things. If there was one that that had been drilled into his head and literally carved into his skin, was that nothing mattered aside from what your master wanted. He woke up every morning with that thought in his head while he made breakfast; he remembered it while he washed the floor or put in a load of laundry; it haunted his unconscious as he tried to get a few restless hours of sleep every night.  He’d gotten very good at pushing away the longing for home, the longing for someone who cared about him, the longing for a life that was his own while he’d been away. There was no point; he could never have any of it. But he’d never expected to see Burt and Kurt at that auction.

Blaine hadn’t said anything when Burt asked if he understood. He didn’t know how to tell Burt that he didn’t feel like he knew how to do that anymore, how to be Blaine—at least the boy he remembered. He didn’t know how to tell him that the world he was living in looked the same, but was completely different. That he didn’t know how to just be. His head and his heart were constantly at war with each other. He couldn’t look his best friend in the eye or even say a word to him without feeling like everything was going to crumble around him. He didn’t know how to be someone who couldn’t even take a walk down the block anymore, at least not by himself. He didn’t know how to be one thing when they last year of his life had told him that he was something else: something worthless, something unlovable, something that no longer mattered.  He didn’t know how say any of that without sounding ungrateful. Because he was grateful. But he also wondered if his life would be easier if he’d belonged to someone else.

If he could figure out who Blaine was, if he could let the people in front of him in, would they still want him around? Would Burt still watch a football game with him? Would Kurt still sit beside him and sing along to the Hairspray soundtrack on Saturday afternoons? Would he even have time for Blaine now that he had so many more friends? Blaine wasn’t sure how he could fit into Kurt’s life of trips to the mall with Mercedes, brunch with Rachel, and glee rehearsal four days a week.

Burt called Blaine down when Ms. Clark was ready to leave a few hours later. She had a smile on her face as she shook Burt’s hand at the door. She handed him the paper from her clipboard and then bid Burt farewell, never acknowledging Blaine. When the door was shut, Blaine looked at Burt expectantly.

“You passed,” Burt said with a proud smile, “With flying colors if you ask me.”

* * *

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?”

Kurt looked up from where his eyes—and his attention—were fixed on his cell phone to look at Tina. He was waiting for his father to call, text, or something to let him know how Blaine’s first evaluation had gone. He’d been both upset and relieved to find that it had been scheduled to take place the same day as sectionals. This way he didn’t have to sit in the room while his father was talking to the evaluator.  But what if something had happened and that was why his dad hadn’t contacted him yet? What if his father was currently fighting with some idiot who was trying to take Blaine away from them? What if he needed to be at home with his father and Blaine and he was in Westerville competing in a show choir competition? He’d spend an entire lifetime not talking to Blaine if it meant that he at least knew where he was and that he was safe.

His father was certain that there would be no reason for Kurt to be home for the evaluation, that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to Blaine, and that he would update him once the evaluator left. But the appointment had been hours ago, and his phone remained silent. New Directions was scheduled to go on in fifteen minutes, and Mr. Schuester was calling for them to warm up.

“It’s nothing,” Kurt said with a heavy sigh and put his phone down to join the group.  For the next half an hour he didn’t have any choice but to forget about the world outside and focus on the stage.

Their set list was great, their costumes were amazing, their choreography was…as good as it was going to get. 

Kurt knew the moment he stepped off stage that they had won. It didn’t matter that there was still another group after them, but they were the best. Pulling himself out of Mercedes’s arms and back into the real world, Kurt reached for his phone while the rest of his teammates continued their celebration. His heart stopped when he saw the text from his father but he let out the breath he’d been holding when he read the words.

_Everything went fine. Blaine’s in his room._

A single tear fell from Kurt’s eye. Now he really had a reason to celebrate.

* * *

Sunday morning Kurt took his time getting out of bed. He had nothing ahead of him but a pile of homework, but after winning sectionals the day before he wasn’t going to let anything—especially Macbeth—get him down. Once he was showered and dressed, he grabbed his bag from on top of his desk and went downstairs to the kitchen. The house was peacefully quiet; his dad had mentioned something about going to hang out with one of the guys from the garage to watch the game so he didn’t expect him to be back for hours. Kurt turned the coffee pot on and threw some toast in the toaster then blindly reached into his bag to grab his book while he waited. But his hand didn’t immediately find his copy of the Shakespearian tragedy; instead he pulled out the CD that he had bought at one of the booths in the lobby at sectionals.

He’d had to buy it when no one else was looking, but the moment Kurt had heard the Dalton Academy Warblers perform, he’d thought of Blaine. So he snuck into the lobby during one of the breaks between the groups and purchased one of their “Greatest Hits” CDs from someone he was grateful didn’t recognize him as part of the competition.

Blaine loved a capella music. There was something about the combination of voices without instruments that excited Blaine whenever they would be sitting on Blaine’s bed listening to music.  Blaine had always looked so adorable getting excited about harmonies.

And maybe he thought that if he gave Blaine the CD it could lead to something more. Like a conversation.

Ignoring the toaster popping, the coffee brewing, and Macbeth, Kurt held tightly to the CD and went up to Blaine’s room.  When he got to the top of the stairs he saw that the door was open slightly. When he knocked the door opened further and Kurt tried his best to stop the gasp from escaping his lips, but he’d failed. In front of the mirror, Blaine stood shirtless, his entire upper body exposed and glowing in the morning light that was coming through the window. But it wasn’t the exposed skin that had made Kurt gasp, it was the tattoo that was prominently etched into the skin on Blaine’s upper arm, and the scar that that ran vertically along Blaine’s right side and disappeared onto his back.

Kurt immediately recognized the tattoo as the mark of the slave. Every one of them had it on their right harm—a crest that, honestly, reminded Kurt of the crests from Hogwarts—but they were always in black and white and beneath the crest the banner read “ut ministraretur ei” which translated as “to serve others” from Latin.  Kurt knew from various history classes throughout his life that it was that idea, of serving others, that had allowed the slavery movement to grow into what it had become. To serve others, and to serve the government. It was nothing more than something that fed our country’s economy. It had upset Kurt before, seeing the government use children the way they did. But now that it was Blaine’s arm that bore the logo, he was furious. There had to be something he could do—something _someone_ could do.

“I-I’m sorry,” Blaine said hurrying to put his shirt on,” I-I didn’t know you were awake. I’ll get right on breakfast.”

Kurt didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because, regardless of the situation, Blaine was speaking directly to _him._ It was overwhelming and Kurt found himself staring at Blaine until the other boy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Uh,” Kurt said regaining his composure, “Don’t worry about breakfast, I can feed myself. I just—I just wanted to give you this.”

Kurt extended the CD towards Blaine who took it with hesitant hands, inspecting it like a diamond before looking up at Kurt curiously.

“Sectionals were yesterday,” Kurt explained, then blushed embarrassed, because Blaine knew that, “Anyway, we won, but the Warblers were one of the teams we were up against and they were really good, so I thought you might like that. I think we have the stereo from your old room—I think it’s in the basement. If you want I can get it and we can hook it up in here.”

Blaine’s gaze moved back to the CD in his hand as he continued to inspect it, as if something on it could tell him the secrets of the universe.  Then he shook his head.

“Okay,” Kurt said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice because now that Blaine had recovered from the shock of him being in his room, he stopped talking again, “If you ever change your mind, let us know. We’ve got a bunch of stuff down there. We got a lot of it out before the people came and got it for the auction.”

Blaine nodded and Kurt told himself that was enough, for now. That at least Blaine heard and understood him, even if he was still so closed off to him. With a tight smile, Kurt backed out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, to Macbeth and cold toast. But not even a murderess Lady Macbeth could pull his thoughts away from Blaine. He’d known to expect the tattoo, the branding, on his arm. But he hadn’t been prepared for the angry pink mark that started just above his waist and disappeared onto his back. Someone had hurt Blaine and Kurt couldn’t help the rage that began to boil in his gut. He was angry that anyone would leave a mark like that on another human being, let alone Blaine. He was angry that with one year and one scar, for the first time in his life, there was a part of Blaine that Kurt didn’t know. And because he didn’t know it, he couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand Blaine. They used to share everything, now Blaine had secrets. Secrets that Blaine could hide behind clothing and that were locked in his head.

Even if Blaine spoke to him again, would he ever tell Kurt the things he kept to himself now? And if Blaine always kept a part of himself hidden from Kurt, would Kurt ever really know Blaine again?

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Happy Sunday Everyone! Thank you again for all the love you've given this story! I appreciate it more than you know! And thank you for being patient for this chapter!
> 
> Big thank you to my amazing beta, Christine!

_Somewhere There’s a World…_

Blaine had never been more nervous in his life. And if he felt like this now—just getting _permission­—_ what was he going to do when it was actually time to do it? Probably fall to the ground and just lie there waiting for this crazy idea to pass. Except, it wasn’t crazy, and he was pretty sure it was the easiest decision he’d ever made. So why was he almost certain that his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest?

Blaine held tight to the banister halfway down the stairs. He and Kurt were back in Lima for Christmas, a getaway from the busy streets of New York City to the comfort of their childhood homes and their family. It was Christmas Eve and Kurt was currently out with Mercedes doing a little last minute Christmas shopping. Blaine had been wrapping presents at his parent’s house across the street when he realized that his mother’s gift was hiding in Kurt’s bag and quickly ran over to the Hummel house to retrieve it.

Once he had the necklace he’d bought his mom in his hands, he found himself looking around Kurt’s room—a room that felt as much like his own as the one across the street did. His eyes scanned the room taking in all the pieces of their childhood that they’d left behind when they moved to New York together. It was more than just physical reminders. There was the spot where they’d had their first fight as a couple, and the corner where they’d kissed each other like pleas for forgiveness afterward. It was the room where they came out to each other, where they picked each other up after a bully had gotten the best of them. It was the room where Blaine fell in love with Kurt before he understood what love was. It was that thought that had driven him quickly out of the room and halfway down the stairs before he froze.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on doing this while they were home, but was now the really the right time? What if he said no? What if he banished Blaine from his house and his life?

“Kid, I can hear you breathin’,” Burt said interrupting his internal freak out, “You might as well come down here and tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Blaine took a deep breath and descended down the rest of the stairs to come face to face with Burt, who was still in the chair he’d been in when he’d walked into the house. But while he’d just managed to say hello to Blaine when he’d come in, now he was looking at Blaine with curious eyes that he’d known since he was nine. Blaine knows that he knows. Burt _knows_.

“Can I talk to you?” Blaine asked.

“Come sit down, Blaine,” Burt said gesturing towards the couch next to him, “This must be important.”

“It is,” he said taking a seat on the couch he’d spent many Saturday nights curled up on.

“Then tell me what it is because you’re freaking me out. You and Kurt didn’t have another fight did you? Because I can’t have one of you accusing me of taking sides again.”

“No,” Blaine said, a hint of a smile on his lips. The way their families were close, it was sometimes hard to remember that Burt was actually Kurt’s father and didn’t really belong to Blaine, “We didn’t have a fight.”

“Then out with it before we miss the dinner your mom is makin’ for tonight.”

Blaine worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at Burt. Burt who he trusted and loved as if he was his own father currently looked big and scary.

“I’d like to ask Kurt to marry me,” Blaine said in a rush, “And I want to know that you’re okay with it.”

Burt face wasn’t shocked, or surprised, “Today?”

“No, not today—I mean, I would—but no, not today,” Blaine shook his head, “But soon. Maybe after we graduate in May. I don’t really know when, I just know that I want to. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my entire life.”

“Not even that grand piano that you wanted when you were twelve?” Burt teased. Some of the tension in Blaine’s shoulders fell away.

“That is a close second,” Blaine joked. But really, being with Kurt, _marrying_ Kurt, was really his whole list. He’d give up everything if it meant spending the rest of his life with Kurt by his side.

“You really want to marry my kid?” Burt asked looking Blaine square in the eye.

Blaine smiled, “Yes.”

Burt reached out and put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, “Kid, you’ve had my blessing since you two idiots told me that you were together.”

Blaine felt like crying, singing, and dancing at the same time, “Thank you.”

“Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Make sure when he finally says yes, that you both remember to give us a call before you get too swept up in the excitement, alright?”

Blaine smiled, big and bright, “Of course.”

* * *

By the time Kurt walked through the door, he was certain that there was no way that his day could get any worse. He somehow managed to spill his coffee on both himself and the interior of his car that morning, and then everything else seemed to continue in the same life ruining fashion. He was completely unprepared for the pop quiz in history—though he could have sworn that he had picked up his history text book the night before—his English paper came back with a big red C on the top, and he was going to have to make up some excuse in order to spend his entire weekend Rachel Berry Free. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, she was one of his best friends and he couldn’t imagine what the last year of his life would have been like without her, but sometimes there was just a limit to what Kurt could take. If her constant chatter about regionals wasn’t enough, she’d seemed less than sympathetic when he took two minutes that afternoon during lunch to vent about everything that had—or hadn’t—been going on with Blaine.

“Kurt,” she’d said, “I know you still care about him like he’s your best friend, but he’s not. Not really. He’s not even really your friend anymore.”

The words had come out of Rachel’s mouth like she had told him that the sky was blue; so matter of fact. They made the middle of Kurt’s chest tighten and ache and the pressure began building behind his eyes. Was Rachel right? Had things changed so much that he was never going to get Blaine back the way he wanted?  He’d already been asking himself those questions, so maybe there was something to be said about Rachel’s opinion. If someone on the outside could see their relationship dissolving, why couldn’t he?

Because Kurt still felt like Blaine was his best friend. Blaine was still the person he wanted to tell his deepest secrets to, he was the person he wanted to unload on when he got home after a long day of teachers and glee club, and even if Blaine hadn’t said more than five words to him since he’d been home, it didn’t meant that they still weren’t friend— _best friends._ Right?

Kurt walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find Blaine standing over the stove, stirring something inside a pot. Normally, his father insisted on cooking dinner. Mostly to show Blaine that they were capable of doing things for themselves, that in this house, it wasn’t up to him to do these things. But also because his father liked to use the cooking skills that Kurt had been teaching him—and if those failed he was already a master as ordering pizza. But his father’s car hadn’t been in the driveway.

“Where’s my dad?” Kurt asked leaning against the refrigerator. If he couldn’t talk to his best friend, the least he could do was take comfort in his father’s supportive ear.

Blaine froze with the spoon still in the pot then looked over at Kurt, eyes wide like he was a deer about to be demolished by a semi-truck. Kurt had asked him a direct question, and there was no way for him to dodge it, “He’s—uh—he’s staying late at the garage to finish up a-a car. Sir.”

It was one word, but in the moment Kurt’s brain took to comprehend the words, something inside him that had been pushed over and over the last few days—and specifically over the last few hours—snapped. Sir? Had Blaine really just called him sir?

“So you can only talk to me when you think you have to serve me,” Kurt asked venomously, his glare cold as he looked at Blaine, “But you can’t talk to me when I want to have a conversation with my _friend_?”

“God! I don’t even really need you to say anything, I just need you to stop running from the damn room every time I try to talk to you!  And I can tell that right now you want to run away from me again.  You won’t even look at me. I know you, Blaine! No matter how long we’re apart or how much you ignore me, I still know you better than anyone.”

“What I need,” Kurt continued, “is my best friend, and you aren’t there! So maybe Rachel was right. Maybe you and I aren’t friends anymore. And maybe we won’t be ever again.”

In an instant, in the moment that he verbalized one of his greatest fears, all the anger Kurt had been feeling evaporated, leaving him sad, tired, and a little bit guilty. Blaine hadn’t deserved to be yelled at, not because he’d been distant, and certainly not because Kurt was having a bad day. But that didn’t change how he felt. It didn’t change anything.

“I’m going upstairs,” he muttered as he stormed out the kitchen, leaving Blaine staring at the ground.

* * *

The moment Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury walked into his French class and the guidance counselor whispered something to Madame Herman while his choir director’s eyes watched him like someone had just kicked his dog, Kurt knew something was wrong. And by the time they sat him down in Ms. Pillsbury’s office, Kurt was sure that the tightness he felt in his chest could only mean that something was wrong with either Blaine or his father. And since his father would have been there if something had happened to Blaine, but was nowhere to be seen, the uneasy feeling immediately traveled to his gut, leaving him nauseous before Mr. Schuester even uttered the words, ‘Your father is in the hospital.”

Ten minutes later, Kurt found himself in the back seat of Mr. Schuester car, staring silently out the window, Ms. Pillsbury in the passenger seat. Kurt let the fear build inside him, but held it close so that he could contain it. He wouldn’t let himself cry, not yet. Because no one knew what was waiting for them at Lima Memorial. He could walk in and see his father awake and laughing with the doctors, demanding to be sent home immediately. Or he would walk into his worst nightmare and his dad would already be gone. There was no way for Kurt to know, and as scared as he was of finding out what was waiting for him, he wished Mr. Schuester would drive a little faster.

When the doctor met him in the waiting room, they can only tell Kurt that his father has had a heart attack, and that they’re currently running some tests. So he sat, and waited, and stared at the wall even when Mr. Schuester tried to talk to him. He didn’t want to talk; he just wanted his father to be okay. He still hadn’t cried, and he wouldn’t cry until he knew what he was up against.  Until then, he just wanted to stare at the wall and not let his thoughts run wild.

It was two hours before the doctor returned, and Kurt could tell by his grim expression that the news wasn’t good. He said things like “arrhythmia”, “lack of blood to his brain”, “comatose” and “no guarantees.” He didn’t really hear the rest; he knew what he needed to know. Then he excused himself to the nearest bathroom to throw up.

He’d been eight when his mom died, and it had been so sudden that he hadn’t had time to wait and worry and wonder. He just came home from school one day and then that was it. This was so much different. His father was lying in a hospital bed in a coma, and all Kurt could do was sit around and hope that the doctors could make it better, that his father could fight through all the bad and wake up and come back to the world, come back to Kurt. When the last wave of nausea passed, Kurt sat on the floor of the bathroom stall, leaning his head against the partition. And then he cried.  He cried because he’d never felt so lost in his life; he cried because his father could possibly die; he cried because everything seemed so hard lately. He cried until Mr. Schuester came looking for him. He ignored his teacher, but picked himself off the ground, walked out of the stall, and over to the sink. He rinsed his mouth out and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was splotchy and his eyes red rimmed, but he took a deep breath and silently followed Mr. Schuester back to the waiting room.

* * *

Kurt managed to get Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury to leave him around dinner time.  Kurt was very appreciative for being there with him—he knew that Glee club had been canceled that afternoon—but he would be allowed to see his father soon, and he didn’t need them to sacrifice any more of their day.

“Kurt,” Mr. Schuester said, “Are you sure you’re okay here by yourself? Do you want me to call Rachel?”

“No,” Kurt said shaking his head, “I’ll be okay. I’m just going to sit with him.”

“If you need anything, call us,” Mr. Schuester told him, Ms. Pillsbury nodding beside him.

Kurt nodded in return and watched as they hesitantly walked away. When he knew they had turned the corner, no longer in sight, Kurt began the trip down the hall to his father’s room. He walked slowly, his feet feeling heavier with every step, the sound of his foot hitting the linoleum echoed down the hallway.  Other hospital rooms lined both sides of the hallway, some with their doors open, some with curtains covering the windows, others allowing full access to the sick patient and their families inside. But Kurt wouldn’t dare look in. He didn’t want to intrude and he really didn’t want to see what was inside.

When he reached the last door on the left he stopped. The name beside it read Hummel, Burt, and Kurt knew that it was only one more step before everything would be real. His father’s condition would no longer be what the doctors had told him, but something he would see firsthand on his father’s face, on his skin, in the sound of the machines beeping beside him. But he could hear them from the hallway, and with a shaky breath Kurt walked through the open door.

It looked like he was sleeping, and Kurt thought that maybe he could pretend for a little while that he was. That this was like when he was little and he used to sneak into his parent’s bedroom to wake them up on Christmas morning so that they could open presents. He imagined that he could wake his father up just by shaking his shoulder or jumping on his bed. But he knew that he couldn’t. Instead, he took a seat in the chair next to the bed and watched his father. He studied his father’s grey skin, his eyes, his mouth, and his nose. For what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe if he looked long enough he’d see something that told him that everything was going to be alright. But there was nothing there to reassure him. Kurt reached out and carefully took his father’s hand off the bed and into his own, holding it tightly. His father’s hands were dry even though Kurt had gotten him that special lotion for Christmas last year, but they were his dad’s hands and they felt like home, like safety. So he just held them, afraid that if he let go that he would lose that security, he’d lose everything.

Kurt didn’t know how much time had passed; he just knew that it was late and that he was tired when a nurse came into his father’s room. Kurt looked up and saw that the nurse was Finn’s mom, Mrs. Hudson. They’d met at the Glee invitational last year.

“Honey, why don’t you go home and get some rest? We’ll call you if anything changes?”

Kurt shook his head, “I-I can’t. I don’t want to leave him.  Besides, I think my car is still at McKinley.”

Mrs. Hudson scribbled something down on his father’s chart then looked at Kurt, “Finn is going to be swinging by to drop off some things for me in a little while. He can drive you home and then take you to get your car tomorrow. Or is there someone else we can call?”

“I-I don’t know,” Kurt said. Because since his mom died, it had only been Kurt and his father. At least until Blaine had come around.

In the chaos he’d forgotten about Blaine. Blaine who was sitting at home, expecting both him and his father to be there. He wouldn’t have tried to contact either of them; he wouldn’t think it his place. And suddenly he needed to be home, he needed to see Blaine. It didn’t matter if he talked to him or even looked at him, the urge to be home was so overwhelming that Kurt pulled out his phone and called Finn himself.

The drive to Kurt’s house was quiet. Aside from a “dude, how are you? Mr. Schuester told us what happened,” Finn seemed to understand that Kurt didn’t want to talk about it and left him to stare out the window anxious to get home, to get to Blaine. He shouted a thank you towards Finn and was out of the car before it was even in park.

He was surprised to find Blaine sitting on the couch in the living room. He spent very little time outside of his room when he wasn’t doing chores that it felt strange to see him there, but also very right.

“Where have you been? Where is your dad?” Blaine asked, his voice high and near hysterical.

The tears rolled down Kurt’s cheek before he could stop them. Because he was scared for his dad and all he wanted for the last year was for Blaine to be in front of him looking like he did now. Like he cared; like he was his friend; like he’d be by his side through anything. Because more than ever before, Kurt _needs_ Blaine. Without thinking he took the three quick strides towards Blaine and threw himself into Blaine, his arms wrapping around Blaine’s neck, holding him close. Because screw the months of not talking. Screw the “sirs” and the pleas for conversation. Screw everything that had happened because he just needs to know that Blaine is real.

When Blaine’s hesitant arms wrapped around him, Kurt gasped, cried a little harder, and then buried his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG Thank you to my beta, Christine. And to Laura, the best cheerleader a girl could ask for. I'd be lost without them both!

There was still time before the sun came up when Blaine blinked his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in his room; he was nestled into the corner of the couch in the living room. The second thing he noticed was the weight against his left side. With tired eyes he turned his head enough to see Kurt, his head on Blaine’s shoulder, getting a little bit of the sleep he desperately needed. The traces of pain and heartbreak that had been so clear when he’d walked in the door the night before had disappeared, for now.

Blaine had been so worried when dinner rolled around and he hadn’t seen or heard from neither Burt nor Kurt. It wasn’t normal for a Master to tell his slave anything about what he was doing with his time—that had been burned into his mind as he watched another get the lesson beaten into their skin—and Blaine thought maybe they both had something going on that they hadn’t mentioned. But he knew Burt better that that; he’d promised Blaine more than that. He called Blaine throughout the day to check in and always told Blaine if he was going to be late. Burt was so different than the Master he’d been trained to expect, and he’d been trying so hard to prove it since he’d passed his first evaluation. Blaine had thought a lot about what Burt had said since then. “We need you to be Blaine,” he’d said, and while Blaine still wasn’t sure how to do that, he’d spent the nights since then falling asleep a little easier while he thought about all the ways he could find out.

The first thing he’d done was turn the radio on while he was cleaning the kitchen the previous morning. It wasn’t really dirty, but it wouldn’t hurt to give the counters and floor a good wash. The radio sat on top of the partition that separated the kitchen from the family room and caught the end of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now coming softly through the speakers. It had been Burt who had listened to the stereo last.  He kept the radio on all day—through laundry and dinner preparations; only turning it off when the sun had begun to set and neither of the Hummel men had come through the door. In the silence of the house, Blaine sat at the kitchen table as the hours passed, waiting and wishing for someone to walk through the door. Eventually the worry began to eat away at him.

Something had happened; Blaine was sure of it. For a long moment, Blaine let his panicking mind take over and wondered if Burt and Kurt had met the same fate as the rest of his family. The weather had been perfect, but what if some idiot was driving drunk or texting and hadn’t seen that it wasn’t his turn, but Kurt’s at the intersection? What if someone had lost control of their vehicle and went crashing into Burt’s? What if he was never going to see either of them alive again? While he was in training, knowing that Burt and Kurt were out there somewhere, even if he never saw either of them again, was what had kept him going. Could he call the police? Would they reprimand him for using his Master’s property without permission?

Blaine had nearly worked himself into hysterics before Kurt came through the door and before Blaine could even comprehend what was happening, Kurt was in his arms. He’d been torn between relief that Kurt was alright and the heartbreak of learning of Burt’s condition.  Holding Kurt close to him had been like a dream he’d been denying himself come true. He forced back the tears that gathered in his eyes while Kurt told him everything that had happened. When Kurt put his head on his shoulder and laced their fingers together like they’d done so many times before, Blaine didn’t argue. He didn’t want to. He’d opened up to Kurt for a brief moment, but it had been enough for his walls to begin to crumble. His head could deny Kurt, but his heart, body, and soul couldn’t. And he decided that maybe it was time to stop fighting all of that and let himself be close to Kurt, at least for one night.

Kurt still asleep on his shoulder, Blaine thought about what Kurt had said a few days before—about him needing Blaine and Blaine not being there; about them not being friends anymore. He’d felt guilty when Kurt lashed out at him. He had wanted to be there for Kurt, to be the sympathetic ear to help bear his burdens. He couldn’t give Kurt what he wanted then, but now Kurt needed him in a way he’d never needed him before. And there was no way that Blaine could turn his back on him. Even though time and life had separated them, and would likely do it again, Kurt Hummel was still his best friend. It didn’t matter who Blaine discovered he was; that was never going to change. There wasn’t a version of Blaine that wouldn’t care about Kurt, who wouldn’t do everything and anything for him. Whatever the risk, it would be worth it.

* * *

Kurt felt himself getting plunged into consciousness by the sound of his phone beeping somewhere around him. He felt like he’d barely slept and immediately that damn Taylor Swift song that Rachel had been singing all week was stuck in his head. He’d have to talk to her about what she performed in his presence. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t in his bed until he felt a chill in the room and moved to pull the blanket over his head, and was met with nothing but the fake leather of the couch. He was then aware that his pillow was a lot firmer than it should have been and that he wasn’t lying down, but in a pseudo-sitting position. He sat up quickly, his eyes opening to the morning sun that had only recently peaked from beneath the horizon and then finding Blaine beside him.

And then he remembered everything: his father’s heart attack, hours at the hospital without answers, hours pleading with his father’s unconscious form to just wake up, Finn driving him home, crashing into Blaine’s arms, falling asleep next to him.

He almost didn’t want to speak, afraid that the sound of his voice would startle Blaine, bring his attention to what was happening and he’d run away like he had been for months. Blaine was next to him, their fingers still linked between them, and he couldn’t lose that. Not now, not when it felt like the ice was cracking beneath his feet and one wrong step could send him into the arctic waters.

“Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Hi,” Blaine responded and when the sir didn’t follow, Kurt let go of the breath he’d been holding.

There was so much that Kurt wanted to say.  He’d spent months thinking about what he would say to Blaine if Blaine would listen. But the only thing that made sense was “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that I yelled at you,” Kurt said quietly, his voice so much gentler than it had been the last time they spoke, “That we weren’t friends anymore. That’s not true.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine said looking at the couch cushion instead of Kurt.

Risking it, Kurt pulled on their joined hands, holding tighter to Blaine, “No, it’s not. Will you look at me, please?” Kurt asked desperately. He wanted Blaine to know that he hadn’t meant what he’d said, that he was still on Blaine’s side. That he always would be. When Blaine’s eyes met his for the first time in so long, a rush of happiness, and relief, filled Kurt, “I know this hasn’t been easy, and I know you have your reasons. And I think I understand why you haven’t wanted to talk to me. You didn’t deserve for me to lash out at you like that. And not that it’s any excuse but I was having a particularly bad day. That was only followed by a much worse one.”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Blaine said, his eyes still locked with Kurt’s, “I’m here now.”

“I really like it when you don’t run away from me,” Kurt said, “Will you explain it to me one day?”

Blaine hesitated for a moment, “Maybe. I don’t know if I know how.”

Kurt nodded. He owed Blaine all the time in the world, and he’d give him every second. Afraid that he’d chase Blaine away with a hug, he settled his head back down on Blaine’s shoulder, happy when Blaine didn’t push him away, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Blaine said squeezing Kurt’s hand where they still linked.

Really?” Kurt asked.

“Really,” Blaine said turning his head so that he could look at Kurt, “You’re right, I had my reasons. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you every second.”

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” Kurt said relishing in Blaine’s honesty and snuggling closer, “I don’t know that I would be able to handle any of this without you.”

“He’ll be okay, Kurt,” Blaine said confidently. As if Kurt had asked him his name or the color of the sky, “But you don’t have to do any of this alone.”

 Kurt nodded, hoping that he could somehow gain Blaine’s optimism by simply agreeing. If Blaine could see the hope, couldn’t he? “Will you come with me to see him? I think he’d like that.”

Blaine was quiet for a minute and Kurt feared that he’d said the wrong thing and despite everything he’d just said, Blaine was about to run, “I can’t,” he said after a shaky breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I-w-they don’t allow slaves in the hospitals.”

“Oh, right,” Kurt said, the sadness in his words and written on his face.

“Let me make you breakfast,” Blaine whispered.

“No,” Kurt said picking his head up off Blaine’s shoulder, “You really don’t have to do that, Blaine. I’m not even hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach growling, Kurt,” Blaine said sliding off the couch, untangling their hands for the first time since Kurt had woken. He immediately missed having Blaine so close, “I want to. You’re going to need more than a cup of coffee today.”

“Fine,” Kurt said, “But seriously, just put some toast in and I’ll be in there in a minute.”

“Okay,” Blaine said and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alone, Kurt let his thoughts wander back to his father. Mrs. Hudson had promised to call if there had been any change, but as he picked up his phone—his battery nearly dead—he found that he only had several missed calls from Rachel and text messages from most of New Directions.  He’d go see his father soon and he’d need to get his car back from the high school parking lot before something happened to it. It was still early and he knew that Finn slept until noon on the weekends, so he sent Rachel a text message, knowing she was already awake, asking her to take him to McKinley in an hour. He thought about calling the hospital but was terrified of what they’d say, so he pushed himself off the couch and padded towards the kitchen.

“Blueberry or banana?” Blaine asked, a bowl in one hand and the pancake mix on the counter. Blaine had completely ignored Kurt’s request for toast, but it only made something stir in Kurt’s chest. If he let himself forget, this would just be like all of those Saturday mornings they’d had before Blaine had gone away, and that the last year hadn’t happened, and that his father wasn’t lying in a coma. He desperately wanted that fantasy to become reality.  He could remember that the first time that his heart sputtered in Blaine’s presence had been on a Saturday morning when Blaine had come over and his father made them both pancakes. It had been on one of those mornings that Kurt had fallen in love with Blaine so completely before he even really knew what love was. If things were different he’d tell Blaine right there in the kitchen how he felt, but things were more unstable now than they had been then. And just because he could pretend didn’t mean that his dad wasn’t still sick. He longed for the days where the biggest problem in his life was convincing Blaine that they should order Chinese instead of pizza. Maybe one day, he thought. Maybe one day his life would be carefree once again.

* * *

It had been hard convincing Rachel that she didn’t need to come with him to the hospital after they’d picked up his car; but he managed to send her back home with a hug and a thank you. He was glad to have her, but the only person he wanted with him right now couldn’t be; and there was no way to substitute that.

Kurt walked slowly through the halls of the hospital on his way to his father’s room. It was the same journey he’d taken the day before, but he hoped that when he got to his father’s door that something would be different. That he’d peek inside and see his father awake and laughing with a nurse.  But instead he found his father, still unconscious, and Mrs. Hudson at his side taking notes on his chart. She smiled when she saw Kurt walk through the door.

“How’d you sleep last night, sweetie?” she asked.

“Alright, I suppose,” Kurt answered simply. It had been the truth but how to do you tell a stranger, or anyone really, that while part of your life was falling apart, there was another that was putting itself back together again?, “The nurse up front said there hasn’t been any change.”

“There hasn’t,” Mrs. Hudson said, “I checked on him as soon as I got here.”

“Thank you,” he said, “I like knowing he’s got someone looking out for him if I’m not here.”

“Of course, Kurt,” she said with a smile, “I’ve got to go check on a few more patients, but I’ll be back in a little bit. Do you need anything?”

“No thank you,” Kurt said as Mrs. Hudson dropped his father’s chart at the end of his bed and walked out of the room.

Kurt took a seat next to his father’s bed and began looking him over the same way he had the night before, closely examining every bit of him for a sign that everything was going to be alright. Again, he didn’t find one. He reached for his father’s wrist, holding it between his fingers until he found the pulse tapping weakly against his fingers. It was all the sign he was going to get. His father’s heart was still beating, and as long as that kept happening he’d be as close to as alright as he could be.

“Dad, if this was your way of getting Blaine and I to speak to each other again, it worked,” Kurt said, “You can wake up now.”

His father remained unresponsive.

Kurt then told his father everything that had happened the night before and that morning. Just as he would have had the circumstances been different. He told him about the relief he felt when Blaine’s arms wrapped around him, how his heart had finally started beating from that place that was reserved only for Blaine. How Blaine had finally spoken to him like his friend and how he’d hugged him before he left. He thanked his father for everything he’d done to help Blaine and told him how it was a start and that Rachel was wrong, they were still friends, they’d always be friends, and he’d find a way to get everything back. And that meant that he had to wake up.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door and Kurt turned expecting to see Mrs. Hudson at the door, and he did, but she was accompanied by another woman not dressed in scrubs but a pantsuit with a folder cradled in her arms.

“Kurt,” Mrs. Hudson said, her voice breaking and Kurt eyed both women suspiciously, “This is Ms. Green. She’s a social worker for the hospital.”

“Kurt,” Ms. Green said in a tone that Kurt was immediately uncomfortable with, “There’s something I need to speak with you about.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Somewhere There’s a World…_

Kurt took a deep breath, “Any last minute advice?”

He and his father were standing alone in the hotel room where Kurt had gotten dressed, where just a few minutes before Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes had been frantically dashing around making sure that everything was perfect. Because there were only a few minutes left until Kurt walked down the aisle to say “I do” to Blaine, the boy he’d fallen in love with as a teenager and who would become his husband at twenty-five.”

“Kurt,” his father said, “I don’t think you need advice. Not for this part. We’ve known that this day was inevitable since you were fourteen.”

“Blaine and I didn’t get together until we were sixteen,” Kurt pointed out.

“I know,” Burt said laughing. Of course he knew, “But you two were making each other happy a long time before that.”

Kurt smiled. His father was right. He and Blaine had been something special from the moment they’d met.

“You want some advice, Kurt? Just keep doing what you’ve been doing,” Burt said, “You two know how to be kind to each other, how to fight with each other, and most of all you know how to love each other completely. And I think that means you’ve got a leg up on most of the world.”

“Thanks, dad,” Kurt said leaning up to hug his father, an embrace that he took strength from, that made him a better person, that had made him into the man who was able to love and be loved in return, “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid,” Burt said, pulling back to look at Kurt with a smile on his face, “Now let’s not keep him waiting any longer.”

* * *

Sunday morning Kurt woke up to find himself in the same spot he’d woken up in the day before: curled against Blaine’s side, his head on his shoulder, and their linked hands resting on Blaine’s lap. The only difference was that now they were in Kurt’s bed and had both taken the time to change into their pajamas the night before. Kurt tilted his head to look properly at Blaine, who was still asleep, his cheek pressed against the top of Kurt’s head. He looked peaceful and Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the comfort of having Blaine so close to him do as much as it could to lessen the anxiety that was building inside of him. Somehow, in a world that already seemed out to get him, there were more punches to be thrown his way. And this last one landed much harder than any of the others.

At the hospital, he’d rushed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl as the words that had come out of Ms. Green’s mouth sunk in. His entire body understood what she had told him and was hell bent on revolting. Some things hadn’t been new information. He’d been told from the beginning that the longer his father stayed in the coma, the less likely he was to wake up. But what he hadn’t expected was to learn that his father’s condition had been reported to social services, and that when they went to look in his file, they were unable to find any record of the arrangement Kurt knew his father had made. The ones that protected Kurt should something happen to his father, leaving Kurt an orphan. Someone somewhere thought it would be kind to give him a chance to prepare himself should his father not pull through.

It was a long while until Kurt came out of the bathroom, and when he did, Ms. Green was gone. But Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him with a comforting smile that did nothing to calm him. God, he was going to be sick again.

“Kurt,” Ms. Hudson said, he voice soft and mother like, “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt swallowed everything he was feeling and shook his head, “There has to be some kind of mistake. My father—my father filled out the paperwork, I know he did. We walked about it, made sure that everything was in place after what happened to Blaine…”

Whatever he had left to say went with the wind as his head filled with memories: of the day Blaine’s parents died, of the following nights he’d spent by Blaine’s side while they waited for the other boy’s birthday to come and go, of the day they took Blaine way. All of it came rushing back until it was impossible to breathe and there were tears running down his face. He wanted to go home, he needed to get to Blaine, and then he needed to figure this whole mess out.

He spent another hour by his father’s side, begging him to wake up. He didn’t believe in God, but he had hope. And if he had that he had everything, right? They’d hoped to be able to find happiness again after his mom died, and they did. They’d had hope that they could bring Blaine home, and they did. So if Kurt had to use up every last bit of hope he had to get his father to wake up, he would. He would hope that he’d see his father’s proud look one day when he graduated high school, and then college. He would hope that his father would be there to give sage advice before he walked down the aisle should someone want to marry him one day. He’d hope for every moment that could be their future until there was no hope left.

He was shaking, and probably shouldn’t have been driving, by the time he’d made it to Blaine’s arms a little while later, grateful when his best friend had wrapped them around him the way he’d longed for for so long. Blaine had always been the first person Kurt would go to when things were bad, and they’d never been worse than they were now. Blaine just held him close as he explained everything.

They’d crawled into Kurt’s bed sometime later, after Blaine forced Kurt to eat and after they’d spent an hour or so staring at the television. He’d close his eyes, exhausted from the trauma of the last two days, comfortable next to his best friend, and terrified that he was about to lose his father, and his freedom. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was Blaine whispering. Kurt wasn’t even sure that Blaine knew he was still awake, but he kept repeating the same words over and over, so that only Kurt could hear them.

_“I’m here.”_

In the early hours, of the next morning, Blaine shifted beside him and when Kurt opened his eyes again, he was looking right into Blaine’s. Still full of sleep, but just as safe as they’d always been. Blaine squeezed their joined hands and Kurt wanted to scream at the irony of it all. He’d somehow managed to get both the thing he wanted most and his worst nightmare in the same week.

“How are you doing?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. He wanted to tell Blaine the truth: that he was scared, terrified. But he couldn’t make the words yet. Admitting that he felt that way made the whole thing more real, and he wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Not when he knew that someone had made a terrible error.

“Are you going to see your dad today?” Blaine asked.

“No—I-I need to find those papers, Blaine,’ Kurt said sitting up straighter, “I know they exist. I watched him fill them out.  After my mom died there was a little while where he didn’t have everything figured out, but then we moved here and you and I became friends and I guess your parents had agreed that if anything were to happen to him, I would live with you. And after you—after you left he refiled. My dad has an aunt in Chicago, who has to be ancient, but we don’t have a lot of options.”

If Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had taken the time out to protect Kurt, why hadn’t they taken the time to protect their own son? The question followed Kurt around for more than a year and made him livid.

“Where you do you think they could be?” Blaine questioned.

Kurt shrugged, ‘I don’t know. The basement? There are boxes of old tax forms and important documents down there. I’ll start there.”

“I’ll help you,” Blaine said without hesitation, “We can do it together.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, “I’m never going to let what happened to me happen to you. I really want your dad to be okay, but if something happened, I’ve heard of a place…”

The doorbell rang cutting Blaine off.

* * *

Blaine left Kurt in his room while he went to go answer the door. Halfway down the stairs he took a deep breath and reminded himself that, despite everything, he still had to answer the door like he was a slave. Because no matter what Kurt or Burt said, that was what he was. It wasn’t until he reached for the doorknob that he realized that anyone could have been on the other side of the door—including an evaluator—and he probably should have changed out of his pajamas. But it was too late to turn back now and a sigh of relief escaped from between his lips when he pulled the door open to not see the stern face of an evaluator, but the concerned face of a short brunette that he recognized from the sleepover and the morning before sectionals. He knew her name was Rachel.

“Oh, hello,” she said, “I’m looking for Kurt. Is he home?”

“He’s upstairs,” Blaine answered before remembering to continue, “Miss. Would you like me to get him for you?”

“That would be great,” Rachel said pushing passed Blaine to get into the house, “Is he okay?”

Blaine was shocked that such a question was directed toward him. It wasn’t expected for slaves to have such opinions or knowledge. By the time he finally pushed through the shock there was a creak on the stairs behind him and both he and Rachel looked up to see Kurt still in his pajamas, though he looked like he’d run his fingers through his hair in hopes of taming his bedhead. Had he looked that tired when Blaine had left him?

“I’m okay,” he said leaning against the railing.

“Well then you could have at least answered one of my texts or phone calls letting me know you got home,” Rachel said folding her arms across her chest, “I was worried.”

An odd mix of jealousy and relief swirled inside Blaine. For so long, years ago, it had only been him and Kurt. They had other friends, but none of them had been considered close. But he’d been gone and had been distant for so long. He was glad that Kurt had someone who cared about him the way he deserved to be cared about. Though it was a strange feeling to have that care come from someone other than himself. 

“I’m sorry Rachel,” Kurt said taking the rest of the stairs to stand next to Blaine, “A lot happened last night.”

“Your father, is he…?”

Kurt shook his head, “There’s been no change.”

“Then what happened?” Rachel inquired.

Kurt took a deep breath, “Let’s sit down.”

While Kurt and Rachel took a seat on the couch and Kurt filled Rachel in on the events of the previous night as well as their plans for the day, Blaine disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee.  As he pressed the on button and watched as the dark liquid began to drip into the clear pot, he thought about Kurt.

He had to make sure that Kurt was okay and if he had to singlehandedly tear the house apart to find those papers, he would. And if something did happen to Burt and he had to separate from Kurt again when he left to go live in Chicago, he would. If he had to go back into the system so that Kurt could be safe and happy, he would. But if they didn’t find the papers, and something happened to Burt, they’d run. Blaine had heard about places where runaway slaves could hide. Places around the country where they could live the rest of their lives away from the rest of the world, but as free as they could be.

He thought then about Sam, his roommate of sorts during training. They were the same age, but Sam was taller with shaggy blonde hair. Sam’s parents had been killed in an accident like Blaine’s parents had a few months before Blaine had arrived in the abandoned school that would be his home for the next year. Blaine and Sam had formed a friendship in the little time they had to themselves each day. But a few months before Blaine went up for auction, Sam disappeared. He’d escaped, gone to find the freedom he’d been sure was out there. When Blaine had woken that morning, before anyone had realized that Sam was gone, there was a piece of paper under his pillow. The words “if I find it, I’ll be back” were scrawled  in pencil and Blaine immediately ripped the note into little pieces and tossed it into the trash just moments before the group of supervisors came into the dull concrete room to start the morning routine.

He had no idea if Sam ever found it, or where he was now. But if it came down to it, he’d take Kurt and they’d find it. Together.

The coffee machine beeped pulling Blaine out of his thoughts. They’d take everything one step at a time. There was nothing Kurt could have done to prevent Blaine from going away, but Blaine would sure as hell try to prevent Kurt from being forced into the life he had now. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy let alone his best friend.

Blaine filled two mugs and put them on a carrying tray with a bowl of sugar and grabbed the carton of cream from the refrigerator. It was almost empty and he realized that Burt usually did the grocery shipping Saturday afternoon, even though it was something Blaine should do. Blaine walked the tray into the living room where Rachel looked like she’d just finished crying. He put the tray down on the coffee table and looked at the carpet next to Kurt’s feet.

“I should go get dressed,” Blaine said lamely. He should have gotten dressed before he’d made coffee. He shouldn’t have been seen in front of guests the way he was dressed. If Rachel said anything to someone…

“No,” Kurt said and Blaine’s eyes moved up to meet his, “You don’t have to. Stay here?”

After a moment Blaine nodded and took a seat in the chair next to the couch, Burt’s chair. He wanted nothing more than for Burt to walk into the room and tease him about sitting there until Blaine got up and Burt sat down with them.

“You didn’t want any coffee?” Kurt asked noticing the two mugs.

Blaine shook his head.

“So, where do we start?” Rachel asked.

“Rachel, you don’t have to,” Kurt started.

“I know. But I want to, Kurt. You’re my best friend and if I can help you with this, I’m going to.”

Hearing Rachel call Kurt her best friend made the jealousy stir, but the relief stay put, inside Blaine. He fought the urge to tell her that Kurt was _his_ best friend, and he wasn’t willing to share, but he knew he’d sound like a spoiled child. He knew that the time they’d spent apart had changed them both, but it wasn’t until those words came out of Rachel’s mouth that he wondered if it had somehow changed them. If now the unbreakable bond that had held them together had somehow morphed in a way that he hadn’t been ready for. Maybe it was no longer Kurt and Blaine against the world. Maybe despite everything they would never really get back what they’d had before.  

* * *

They spent most of the day in the basement. The shelves along the wall of the unfinished basement were lined with boxes of stuff that his father either needed to keep, or couldn’t bring himself to part with. There were boxes of old pictures, clothes, books. You name it, it was in the Hummel’s basement. There was a whole shelving unit dedicated to old tax returns and other important documents, so the copy of Kurt’s guardianship papers had to be down there among the dust and the spider webs, right?

Except it wasn’t.

By the time Rachel went home for dinner Kurt was tired, hungry, and completely frustrated. They’d gone through dozens of boxes and found everything from his birth certificate to his mother’s high school year book (which he put aside for another day); there was nothing that even resembled the guardianship documents he needed. But not all hope was lost. He _knew_ the documents existed. He let Blaine made grilled cheese for dinner and sighed heavily when Blaine sat down next to Kurt on the couch to eat.

“I know you probably don’t want to think about this,” Blaine said, “But what are you going to do about school tomorrow?”

School. After the last three days, he’d almost forgotten there was a life outside his house and the hospital. The last three days had felt like so much longer, an eternity of one bad thing after another. Well, mostly. The only good thing he’d gotten since Friday was having Blaine at his side again; talking to him, holding his hand. He kept imagining that he’d wake up and this whole thing would be just some vivid nightmare. But that was a double edged sword. What he wanted was to wake up in a world where he had both Blaine and his father.

“Well, if we don’t find those papers it’s not going to matter.”

“Kurt,” Blaine

“No,” he sighed, “I know. We’re going to find them. I just don’t know if I can handle school on top of everything else right now.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be a good distraction?”

Kurt shook his head, “Not when I can’t find those papers. Blaine, I know they’re around here somewhere.”

“And we’ll find them, Kurt,” Blaine said and could almost hear him forcing the optimism into his words, “I can look while you’re not here.”

Kurt shook his head and took Blaine’s hand, grateful for the millionth time that he didn’t pull away, “Thank you, but I can’t even think about anything else until they’re found.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand, “Okay.”

“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Thank you for everything.”

“I haven’t done much but hold your hand and look through boxes.”

“But that means everything to me right now, Blaine,” Kurt said, “It’s what friends do, right? We are friends again?”

He had to ask. They have been acting like friends, but the circumstances they found themselves in were special. Kurt knew that had his father not had a heart attack, then he and Blaine wouldn’t be where they were right now. He was scared that when this was all over, Blaine would sink back into the shadows.

“Yes,” Blaine said, “Always.”

Kurt took a deep breath in, the pressure building in his chest and behind his eyes, “I’m scared,” he whispered, “I’ve never been so scared of anything in my life.”

* * *

Blaine knew that there weren’t words that could be said to really calm the fear that Kurt was feeling—that he’d felt himself. This wasn’t a fear of the monster underneath the bed or that you’ll wake up with a zit on your nose. No, this was the fear made your skin crawl and your heart palpitate; made your knees weak and sent your mind reeling; made the hairs on the back of your neck stir and the knot in your throat threaten to choke you. This wasn’t kid stuff even though they were both very much still children.

“I never realized how brave you were. How brave you still are,” Kurt said startling Blaine, “I should have. You’ve always been one of the strongest people in my life. You are my rock, Blaine. You are the reason I haven’t completely fallen apart yet. You were able to face the death of your entire family and being taken away from everything and everyone you’ve ever known with so much courage. But me? I’m faced with the possibility of it and I feel like shutting down. I feel like running away until no one can find me. You didn’t do that.”

Blaine won’t tell Kurt about his plans until they’re needed. Until the only other option is to run out of the door with little more than the clothes on their back. But he can tell Kurt about what he’d been feeling in those weeks between the death of his parents and Cooper and the day he left, “Because I wasn’t going to leave you.”

The tears were falling steadily from Kurt’s eyes, the fear swirling behind the tears, “Thank you,” he said, “For not leaving me now.”

It had been so long since Blaine had cried. He’d been taught that tears were worthless. That crying only made him look worthless and that no one wanted a crying slave. Bad things happened to crying slaves. But it was something he could do now. His heart broke over and over for Kurt, and for Burt, and for his family and for the first time since he stepped off that bus in the parking lot of the abandoned school, Blaine cried. Because Kurt would never see him as worthless and sitting next to him, Blaine was free to feel the way he hadn’t in so long.

“I’m never going to let anything that happened to me happen to you,” Blaine promised. It didn’t matter what happened, it was a promise he was going to keep.

* * *

Monday morning Blaine was in his room getting dressed for the day when Kurt shouted his name from down the hall. He hadn’t even known that Kurt was awake, but he quickly tugged his shirt over his head and hurried from his room and into Kurt’s; but Kurt wasn’t there. Another shout of his name and Blaine was in Burt’s bedroom where he found Kurt sitting on the bed surrounded by boxes.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked worriedly as he entered the room.

“I found more boxes,” Kurt said taking the lid off the one beside him and beginning to examine its contents, “Some of this stuff looks important. Will you help me look?”

 “Of course,” Blaine said going to the front of the bed and picking a box up off the floor—it was heavy. Putting it down on the corner of the bed, Blaine lifted the lid. But what he found weren’t any kind of document, but dozens of songbooks ranging from classic Broadway to the best pop hits of 2007. He wouldn’t have thought anything about it, he knew Kurt had a whole collection for songbooks of his own, but then he noticed the “BA” in the top right hand corner written in black permanent marker, and his heart stopped.

“Kurt,” he said lifting the book from the top of the pile, _The Big Book of Broadway._

“What did you--“Kurt said looking up from the box he was looking through, “Oh.”

“This is—are these—these are mine?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, “Remember that I told you we went over to the house across the street and got all of your things? It wasn’t just your clothes. We got everything we could stick into a few boxes and brought them over here. I thought they were in the basement, but my dad must have moved them up here when you came home. There’s an entire box somewhere with your books and CDs. They were going to throw most of it away so we just went and took it.”

Blaine eyed the book and then put it down and looked around the room. There were so many boxes and if only some of them had a fraction of what was once his…

“Why?” he asked, looking at Kurt.

Kurt slid off the bed and stood next to Blaine, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder, “Because the day before, my dad and I decided that we were going to bring you home. No matter what. And then we thought that you should have everything when you got here.”

Blaine let out a sharp exhale, he couldn’t believe this. There were things from his life before—old Blaine’s life—that he’d never be able to get back: his mother, his father, Cooper, freedom—real freedom. But there were parts of that life stored in boxed down the hall and he hadn’t even realized it. These were parts of his life that Kurt was offering to give back to him.  He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Kurt reached up with a single finger and wiped away a tear as it rolled down his cheek.

“We weren’t going to leave you,” Kurt whispered and Blaine didn’t have to look into his blue eyes to know that the tears were running down his cheek as well, “We love you, Blaine.”

And on instinct he turned and wrapped his arms around Kurt and nothing felt better than the feeling of Kurt holding him close, protected, the same way Blaine had been holding him the last few days.

Love. Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he heard that word, let alone felt it.  But what he was feeling wrapped in Kurt’s arms, fully understanding for the first time in over a year that he wasn’t alone in the world, it felt familiar and a lot like it. He knew that he loved his parents and Cooper; he loved Burt in a way he didn’t know how to explain since he was neither friend nor father; he loved Kurt, completely. For as long as he could remember Kurt’s presence alone could make his heart race and make him feel  like he was soaring through the clouds. Kurt made him feel safe. Kurt made him feel loved.

“We should keep looking,” Blaine said pulling away, wiping his face to rid it of the tears that were drying on his cheeks. He couldn’t say it then, but he needed to show Kurt how loved he was in return. And the only way he knew how was to make sure that Kurt was safe.

“Are you sure, Blaine?” Kurt asked, “We can take a break.”

Blaine sniffled and shook his head, “No. There aren’t that many boxes here. If we split them up we’ll be through them all in no time.”

And it didn’t. They didn’t speak much, just an update after each box that they hadn’t found anything. When by the time they reached the last box, Blaine was convinced that they wouldn’t find it—not amongst these boxes at least. Kurt took off the lid then began sifting through the papers inside. He was half way through the box when he stopped.

“I think this is it,” he said lifting several pieces of paper that had been folded into thirds.

Kurt unfolded the stack and Blaine watched his eyes scan the page for the magic words. When Kurt finally looked up, eyes filled once again with tears, Blaine gave him a questioning look. Kurt nodded, the tiniest curl of his lips made Blaine’s heart beat normally again before he reached out and pulled Kurt to him.  They were still faced with so much uncertainty, but they’d found what they needed to ensure Kurt’s safety and, at the moment, that was all that mattered to Blaine.

Kurt would always be safe. Now they just had to wait for Burt to wake up.


	8. Chapter 8

_Somewhere There’s a World…_

If Kurt and Blaine didn’t enjoy the feeling of coming home so much, they would have insisted that their families come to New York for Thanksgiving—at least until the twins were a little more self-sufficient. Traveling with two two year olds was a challenge, but seeing their family—three smiling faces—waiting for them at the airport made every minute worth it.

The approaching holiday season was making work busier, had forced both Kurt and Blaine to schedule nearly every minute of every day, and had made spending time as a family difficult. But it was Thanksgiving and they had four days in Lima with no commitments aside from each other, their family, and a few friends who were also back in the place they no longer lived, but could still call home.

Kurt peered over the short wall that separated the kitchen and the living room of his father’s house and watched his family: his father with his daughter lying sleepily on his shoulder, Mark with his son babbling on his lap while Heather pinched his cheeks when he smiled. Kurt took a deep breath and let the happiness wash over him like a warm wind. He never realized how much he missed this place—not Lima, necessarily, but being around all the people he loved—until he returned.

He felt two arms slip around his waist, one body press against his back, and even after all the time that had passed, his heart flipped in his chest when Blaine pulled him close.

“It’s kind of amazing,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear.

“What? That the kids haven’t screamed or cried in an hour?” Kurt joked.

“Well, that” Blaine said placing a kiss to the back of Kurt’s neck, “But also that we’ve come so far from tea parties in your living room.”

“Shh,” Kurt whispered, “You’re going to make me feel old.”

“Oh, but my darling, you are old,” Blaine teased, “You’re going to be thirty soon.”

“In six months,” Kurt clarified, “Don’t remind me. Or forget that you’ll be following shortly after.”

“You won’t let me,” Blaine said holding Kurt tighter, “I love you.”

Kurt cleaned back, turning his head to look into his husband’s eyes, “I love you, too,” he said placing a kiss on to Blaine’s cheek, ‘Now help me with the dishes.”

* * *

Blaine glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was nearly six and Kurt would be home soon after seeing his father at the hospital. It had been four days since Kurt had found the papers—the ones that guaranteed he wouldn’t become a slave should Burt actually…Blaine couldn’t say it, he could barely think it. For now, he would take what little comfort he could knowing that Burt was still lying in a hospital bed. Unconscious, but still fighting for his life.

Kurt had returned to school two days before; there wasn’t anything he could do now but wait and he needed the distractions—Glee club, his friends. But as soon as the final bell rang he spent a few hours sitting, waiting, and hoping by his father’s side, willing him to wake up. Blaine wished more than anything that he could go along. He felt so useless sitting at home making dinners and dusting the top of the entertainment center just to have something to do.  He wanted to be by Burt’s side almost as much as he wished to be next to Kurt while he sat with his father. Even if Kurt’s freedom had never been on the line, if Burt died, Blaine knew that it would destroy Kurt’s world. It would destroy Kurt. Blaine knew how it felt to lose his entire family. He knew how the hurt didn’t actually feel like pain at first, but cold slime running across your entire body, filling your veins until your body feels so heavy you think you might fall over from the weight of it all. Blaine understood that when it finally hits you, when you finally realize what has happened, it feels like all the air has been stolen from your lungs and that your heart as imploded.  He knew what it felt like for everything you’ve known to be stolen from you in a single moment. And no one had stopped to ask his thoughts, or for his permission. It was all just gone. And he knew that you’re forced to pick up whatever pieces were left and move on with your life. Except, for Blaine, life had given him another earth shattering blow while he was still reeling from the last. If there was one thing Blaine could be okay with, it was that regardless of what happened to Burt, what happened to him would never happen to Kurt. And if that meant that he had to lose Kurt all over again, he’d do it.

Kurt walked through the door at a quarter past six, his face etched with sorrow, his eyes dull, as he offered Blaine a half smile and a quick shake of his head to communicate that there had been no change.

“Come sit down,” Blaine said pointing at the kitchen table, “I made macaroni and cheese from scratch.”

“Your mom used to make that whenever it rained,” Kurt said and the smile that Blaine faltered momentarily. He thought about his parents, and his brother, nearly every day, but he hadn’t thought about them in such specifics in a long time. Kurt must have noticed the change in Blaine’s demeanor because he whispered an apology.

Blaine raised one shoulder, “it’s okay.”

Kurt sighed after a long quiet moment,” Rachel’s coming over,” he said as he moved to sit down at the table while Blaine busied himself getting the bowls he’d already filled with food and setting one down in front of Kurt, “She thinks that distracting me with song selections for regionals is a good use of my time.”

“Oh,” Blaine said from his seat across from Kurt. He’d been looking forward to spending the evening with Kurt. Even if they didn’t have much to talk about, now that he had this time with Kurt, he selfishly wanted it all to himself, “I’ll just head upstairs after she gets here. You won’t even know I’m here. Unless you need something, of course.”

As it should be with every slave, Blaine reminded himself. They were to make sure guests were comfortable, and then disappear.

“No!” Kurt said slightly alarmed, dropping his fork into his bowl, “I mean, you don’t have to. She-she knows. Everything. We don’t have to pretend around her.”

“You-you told her about me?” Blaine asked with a mixture of self-consciousness and fear.

“I know it’s a risk, but she’s not going to tell anyone,” Kurt told him, though it did little to calm Blaine, “She’s a good friend, even if she drives everyone crazy most of the time.”

Blaine took note, and maybe a little pride, in the fact that Kurt used the word “good” to describe his friendship with Rachel, not “best” as she had the other day. Blaine had that he felt jealous of Rachel. She got to have a friendship that went outside the walls of the house. She got to gossip with him over lunch and sing with him in Glee club. She was about to do all the things that Blaine wanted to do with Kurt. All the things that made Kurt happy.

Half an hour later, the large tote bag Rachel entered the house with had been emptied and two dozen song books were scattered around the living room floor. Blaine sat at one end of the couch, Kurt on the other side, and Rachel was curled into Burt’s chair thumbing through a Sondheim songbook. Blaine stayed quiet, slightly amused by the heated discussions Kurt and Rachel had over song selections.

“Kurt,” Rachel said, “I think you should sing Being Alive at regionals.”

Kurt looked up from the book he’d been looking through, “Really?”

“Of course,” Rachel said closing the Sondheim book and setting it down on her lap, “I think it would be a wonderful demonstration to the Glee club of your range. Don’t you agree, Blaine? Kurt said you were once musically inclined.”

Blaine went still, his mouth opened, but he said something. He wanted to correct her, to inform her that he was still musically inclined, but he couldn’t. And though he didn’t have to answer her, not saying anything could be seen as rude on Kurt’s part, which could get both of them into trouble. Even if Rachel knew about the friendship between him and Kurt, it didn’t mean she would be accepting of such behavior. Blaine tossed a questioning glance over at Kurt, who nodded, seemingly understanding Blaine without the exchange of words. He told him it was okay.

“Yes, ma’am,” Blaine said sitting up straighter, remembering to speak to her properly, “Of course. I’ve always admired Kurt for his talent.”

Of course he thought Kurt would sound amazing singing that song. He thought Kurt sounded amazing singing every song. He hadn’t heard Kurt really sing in so long. A memory flashed through his mind and he wondered when he and Kurt could get a chance to dance around Kurt’s bedroom like they used to, singing along at the top of their lungs to the radio. It might be good for Kurt, a distraction just like going through songs was.

Blaine looked over at Kurt and found his best friend looking at him with amazement twinkling in his eyes. Had he never told Kurt that before? Had he never told him how much he was moved when Kurt sang? He must not have because Kurt was looking at him like he’d just told him a secret, something he didn’t already know.

“It’s true,” Blaine added to make sure Kurt never had a chance to doubt his words.

“I wish you could come to school with us,” Rachel said, pulling both the boys from their moment, “You could join the glee club. We could use someone with your appreciation for talent.”

Blaine just shrugged. He wished it too, more than anything. But there was no point in wishing for the impossible.

* * *

Thanksgiving marked the thirteenth day that Burt Hummel was in a coma, and the second year in a row Kurt didn’t feel like celebrating. The year before, Blaine’s absence—the absence of the entire Anderson family, really—had still been a fresh wound when the holiday season began, and the traditions felt uncomfortable and forced without those missing. Kurt had barely slept the night before, but woke up early to curl up in the corner of the couch to watch the parade, by himself. It was a tradition that he usually shared with Blaine, but without him there was no one to care about what Kurt thought about the floats or those giant balloons, and the entire thing lost whatever magic had once captivated both boys.

He and his father ate dinner—prepared without the unusual fanfare—across the table from each other silently. Neither of them needed to mention the four empty chairs at the table, the ones where Heather, Mark, Cooper, and Blaine sat every year for as long as they could remember. Kurt picked at his food, nothing tasting quite right, and a tear slipped from his eye when his eyes fell on the spot to his left where Blaine usually sat before he excused himself to his room. Every year Kurt was thankful for his father, but it had been hard to be thankful for much else when there was still a pulsing ache in his chest. Lying in bed, in his dark room staring at the wall, he counted the days until Blaine’s birthday.

A year later, even though things had changed, the emptiness of the house was just as noticeable. Kurt didn’t wake up to a turkey in the oven, or his father making eggs. He woke up to a cold house and the reminder that his father was somewhere else fighting for his life.

Every morning Kurt woke up terrified that he was waking up to _that_ day. That once again Mr. Schuester would appear in front of him and say the words that haunted him in his sleep and jolted him awake in an empty room light by moonlight, Blaine sound asleep in his own room. He feared each day that it would be the day that he lost his father. How much time would he have to grieve until he had to pack his life up and move to Chicago to live with a relative had hadn’t seen since his mom died? Until he had to leave everything, and Blaine, behind?

Kurt left the house while Blaine was in the shower and was currently sitting next to his father’s bed in the hospital room that he’d become so familiar with. Like so many times before, Kurt watched his father’s face for a sign, for something that would tell him that everything would be okay. But the answers that Kurt so desperately needed were nowhere to be seen, again. He watched as people walked by the door, flowers in their hands, smiles on their faces and wondered how it was possible to feel joy when the one you love was trapped in this building on a day like this. But then again, their loved ones were probably conscious.

He thought about staying at the hospital all day, just holding his father’s hand and telling him about the stupid things that were going on with the Glee club—like the fact that his heart attack had inspired an entire week’s worth of performances. He thought about pretending that it was just another day. But he couldn’t.  And he didn’t want to leave Blaine at home by himself all day; he wanted Blaine by his side. He wished he could bring Blaine to the hospital, but they’d check for his tattoo before he even made it to the front desk. His father had been so fond of Blaine since the moment the Anderson’s rang the doorbell. And Blaine felt the same way about Burt. Kurt could see the genuine concern on Blaine’s face when he asked about his father’s condition every night after he came home. They were family. And they always would be.

Maybe he could make grilled cheese with Blaine and convince him to watch the season of Grey’s Anatomy that he’d missed. Maybe they could pretend like it was a Thursday night and the only logical thing to do was curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watch movies until they fell asleep. But everything felt forced, just like the year before. He had to force himself to move from one moment of his life to the next, he had to force himself to pretend that everything was normal, when the truth was everything was falling apart. Last year he wanted nothing more than for Blaine to come home. This year he was thankful he wasn’t going through all of this alone, for Blaine, but more than anything he wanted his father to wake up.

It was late afternoon when Kurt decided to head home, at least to check in on Blaine. Maybe he could come back later and try again to will his father awake. His stomach growled as he opened the door to the house. He’d only had coffee for breakfast and he’d spent lunchtime telling his father about Rachel’s visit to the house the other day. The day Blaine had told him he’d admired his talent. He was pretty sure his father was aware of his less than platonic feelings towards Blaine, but it he’d never said anything for fear his father wouldn’t approve. That he too was worried that these feelings could ruin something special. But he admitted them to his unconscious father now because if there wasn’t time left for holding back. But now the lack of food was catching up to him.

The first thing he noticed about his house as he took his jacket off was the smell. It smelled, well, like Thanksgiving. The blend of turkey, stuffing, rolls, and what he hoped was apple pie filled the house leaving him hungrier than he’d been and completely bewildered. He almost walked back outside to make sure he was in the right house.

“Blaine?” Kurt called as he began walking toward the kitchen.

When Kurt reached the entrance to the kitchen, he was stunned by what he found. There were bowls everywhere and Blaine was darting from one counter to the other. He was heading toward the refrigerator when he noticed Kurt and stopped, greeting him with a smile—like he had missed him, “You’re back!”

“What are you doing?” Kurt questioned, confused and completely awestruck.

“Cooking Thanksgiving dinner,” Blaine said before opening the refrigerator door and taking out a carton of milk.

“I see that,” Kurt said as Blaine continued to move around working in several bowls and pans, “Where did you get all of this?”

“The store,” Blaine said obliviously as he poured the contents of a bowl into a pan on the stove, “Rachel came over and drove me since I can’t drive yet.”

Kurt waited for Blaine to ask if it was alright, to check that what he’d done wasn’t going to get him in trouble, but the words never came. And that thrilled Kurt. It was refreshing to see Blaine like that. To see him as the confident person he’d always been instead of the petrified boy he’d been lately, acting as if one action would ruin everything. It made him smile for the first time all day.

He hadn’t even noticed the radio had been on until Blaine started humming along. And as much as he could be given everything that was going on, Kurt was happy—or at least something close to it. Just like always, Blaine was the light in his life; even on his darkest days.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Kurt said, “I thought we’d just make sandwiches or something.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine stopped stirring the contents in the pan to look at Kurt, “I wanted to. After all, we shouldn’t throw traditions away. There’s no better time than now to hold onto them.”

Kurt’s mind flashed quickly to the memory of watching the parade by himself, “We didn’t watch the parade,” he commented.

“I DVR’d it,” Blaine informed him, “We can deviate a little and watch while we eat. It’s almost ready.”

Kurt smiled again. It was weak but his lips curled up because Blaine had done something so small, but its meaning was so much bigger than that, “That sounds great. Can I help with any of this?”

“You don’t have to,” Blaine responded, “Do you want coffee or anything?”

“Please? I want to,” Kurt said grabbing the bowl right out of Blaine’s hands, “I need something to distract me.”

“No change with your dad?” Blaine questioned allowing Kurt to take the bowl before moving to another.

Kurt shook his head, “Not today.”

“Then maybe tomorrow,” Blaine said offering a sympathetic half smile before turning to the oven, opening the door to check on the turkey that had already turned golden inside.

They kept working in near silence. Blaine continued to hum along with the radio and Kurt tried to focus on stirring the bowling of cranberries— that he’d stolen from Blaine—to make cranberry sauce from scratch or mashing the potatoes. If he let himself stop thinking too much, he could imagine he and Blaine making holiday dinners for their family in their house, doing dishes while their parents played with their kids. It was a dream, of course. Even if his father made it through everything, Blaine’s family was still gone. And things were never going to be the way he saw them in his mind.

Kurt was fractionally more interested in the parade this year than he had the year before—and not having to sit through commercial breaks was a welcome change. He sat with Blaine at his side, a plate of Thanksgiving dinner in his lap, and watched the floats and balloons. It wasn’t perfect, but Blaine had been right. If there was any time to hold onto traditions, it was now. There were still things in his life that meant something. And if this was the last Thanksgiving Kurt was going to have around the people he loved, then there was no other way he was going to spend it.

When the parade ended Blaine flipped the television back to live programming where they were in the middle of the six o’clock news.

_”A spokesperson tells us that big changes are on the horizon when it comes to slavery laws, especially as we look to elect the next President of the United States, two years from now.”_

The news anchor spoke from behind a desk about the latest rally being held in Washington D.C. Kurt took in the faces of people who were fighting to rid the country of its slavery laws, to free the people who had been unjustly put into a system that didn’t care if they were healthy or cared for, but that they continued to make the money that kept the wallets of certain government officials fat. Kurt knew that the money wasn’t going into schools, or back into the program that had been around for so long people forgot why it existed. He wanted to stand with the people who were fighting for what was right. He wanted to do more to help Blaine.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kurt requested setting his plate on the coffee table in front of him, “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure,” Blaine answered the way he always did, immediate and willing. Always eager to be there for Kurt, even if it was just answering one of his stupid questions.

“What was it like?” Kurt probed, “I mean, you hear about all these things—the poor living conditions and the abuse—but no one ever tells you what it’s really like.”

Kurt had been wondering for years. Long before Blaine had been taken away from them, he wondered if the rumors were true. If the training that the slaves went through was really as terrible as so many thought it was.

Blaine was quiet for a minute and Kurt was sure that he wasn’t going to want to talk about it. And that made him think that everything he imagined was true. He knew that Blaine had gone through things that he’d never understand, that he would keep secrets from everyone for the rest of his life. But he hoped that he would trust Kurt enough to let him share some of their weight.

“Not every rumor you hear about it is true,” Blaine finally said slowly, “Not everyone is cruel.”

“I’m not sure if I feel relieved or not.”

Blaine shrugged, “Some of the instructors were downright terrifying. Some people have it in their minds that we did something to deserve what was happening to us; that we were somehow less than we were when we had parents. But you learn to keep your head down and they don’t pay so much attention to you.”

“Did you ever get in trouble?” Kurt inquired, though he was afraid of the answer.

“Once,” Blaine said, his eyes focused behind Kurt.

Even if he wasn’t looking at him, Kurt could see the pain in Blaine’s eyes, the memory that Blaine was replaying in his head dimming the Blaine that he’d gotten back over the last few weeks. The bright bubbly Blaine that he couldn’t imagine his life without.

“Did you make any friends?” Kurt asked trying to change the subject, but the despair never left Blaine’s eyes even as they returned to Kurt’s.

Blaine swallowed, “You don’t really make friends. You just find people who make you feel less alone.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Blaine,” Kurt said, his voice cracking over the lump that was forming in his throat.

“It’s not your fault,” Blaine whispered.

“I just wish there was something I could have done,” Kurt said unable to hold back the tears any longer.

These words snapped Blaine back into the boy he’d been a few minutes before, back to the boy who only looked at Kurt with compassion and a love that had been built over the years. It made Kurt cry a little harder.

“You did,” Blaine said putting his own plate down next to Kurt’s before reaching over to grab Kurt’s hand, “You and your dad brought me here.”

“And you’re—you’re okay with that?” Kurt questioned, “We’ve never ask you how you felt about all of this.”

Blaine sighed, “I wasn’t at first. I thought it would be easier if I didn’t have to be constantly reminded of who I used to be.  But I meant what I said, I missed you. And when things were their worst, I thought about the day we met or any of the good days we’ve had. It was what kept me from going crazy. It could have been—it _should_ have been—a lot worse for me. But you and your dad brought me back here and made me feel safe. I can’t be upset about that.”

 “Can I ask you one more question?” Kurt inquired, receiving a nod from Blaine, “That scar. Did you get that from Mr. Gertie? I heard the auctioneer say that you came highly recommended from Mr. Gertie. Did he hurt you?”

Almost immediately Blaine shook his head, “Mr. Gertie is just a creepy old man,” Blaine explained, “with an ear for music. I’m pretty sure he thought I was cute, but coming recommended just means he liked to hear me sing. Makes me good for entertainment purposes.”

Kurt should have felt relieved. He’d spent months trying to find out who this Mr. Gertie was and to find out what he’d done to Blaine. But now that he knew, he still didn’t have an explanation for the angry scar he’d seen on Blaine’s side and back, “Then what happened? Who hurt you like that?”

Blaine paused and Kurt saw the flashes of fear and pain return to Blaine’s eyes. He was quiet, his eyes on the back of the couch, unfocused.

“It doesn’t matter who,” Blaine finally said, “But six months into training…I...I…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Kurt said quickly, placing a comforting hand on Blaine’s shoulder, feeling his body shaking beneath it.

“I’ve never told anyone,” Blaine whispered, his words vibrating like the rest of his body.

“It’s okay,” Kurt reassured him.

“But I didn’t do it, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice slightly frantic. Like he was afraid that if he didn’t explain himself, if Kurt didn’t believe him, then something unimaginable would happen, “They would have killed him if they found out it was him. I know it. So I told them it was me.”

“You took the blame for someone else,” Kurt gathered, “Who?”

Blaine took a short breath before he spoke, “His name was Sam. He wasn’t my friend, but he was the closest thing I had to one while I was away.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said raising one shoulder, “He ran away.”

“Ran away?” Kurt questioned, “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, his voice rising slightly, “Can we…can we talk about something else? Please?”

Kurt wanted to know more, especially about Sam. But he could see that it hurt Blaine to talk about him and what happened to them. So he let the subject change, to Glee club, to the fighting over solos for regionals, and tried to let what little Blaine had told him slip to the back of his mind. But it was hard to do when his overactive imagination kept getting the best of him and he found himself wondering if Blaine and Sam were something like friends…or something more.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. The tension of their conversation the night before still lingered through the house and Blaine didn’t speak more about Sam or the scar on his body. And Kurt didn’t push. He knew that if Blaine wanted to tell him the story, he would. There was nothing about Blaine’s year away that Kurt could force Blaine to share. He could only remind him that he was a safe place to let go of the thoughts and feelings that quietly tormented him.

Kurt was grateful for the extra day off of school. It meant that he could spend more time with his dad.  He tried to think of something that would allow him to bring Blaine along with him, but there was nothing. The moment the guard at the door saw Blaine’s tattoo they’d be sent away, or worse. They couldn’t risk it.

“Don’t make dinner tonight,” Kurt said getting up from the table, “We have enough leftovers to last the rest of the decade. I’ll probably be back at the usual time.”

Blaine nodded at the same time Kurt’s phone began vibrating on the kitchen counter. Kurt walked over and saw that it was Mrs. Hudson calling and looked worriedly over at Blaine. What if she was calling with bad news? What if she was calling to tell him that something had gone terribly wrong since he’d left there the night before? What if picking up the phone meant that his entire word was going to finally finish crumbling around him?

“You should answer it,” Blaine said getting up from the table and going to stand next to Kurt.

With shaky hands, Kurt accepted the phone called and whispered, “Hello.”

He didn’t understand much of what Mrs. Hudson said after “Kurt, honey, he’s awake.” He didn’t care. He was crying before he could promise to be there soon, and to thank her for calling. His whole body was shaking when he put the phone down on the counter. He’d spent so many days in fear that the phone call he’d just received would have gone a completely different way, that he wasn’t sure what to do now that the weight of that fear had been lifted off of him. When he looked at Blaine he saw worry and confusion and then started laughing. Because he got his wish. Everything he’d been hoping for had come true. He got his dad, and Blaine was by his side.

“He’s awake,” he said as a fresh tear rolled down his cheek.

A second later, he was wrapped in Blaine’s arms. Blaine held him close and for the first time since they’d reconnected, it wasn’t to support him, it was to join him in the relief that Burt would be okay. It was to hold him while he fear left his body, instead of making sure that it didn’t consume him. His father was awake, Blaine was there, and he felt exhausted and energized at the same time. He had to get to the hospital. He had to see for himself that every bit of hope that he’d held on to had been for something.  He pulled back and looked at Blaine, his eyes shining with a fresh set of tears, tracks from those that had already falling running down his cheek.

The swell of love that he felt for Blaine started in his heart and grew and stretched until it consumed every part of Kurt. And before he knew it he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Blaine’s. He’d never kissed anyone before, never felt the press of another’s lips against his own. But it had felt right, natural. Blaine’s lips were soft, but the rest of Blaine’s body was rigid. Panicked, Kurt pulled away, quickly. Blaine’s eyes were wide, searching for an explanation. Kurt didn’t know what to say or do.  He wasn’t sure how to explain what had just happened.

“I have to get ready,” he muttered and then took off quickly towards the stairs leaving Blaine standing alone in the middle of the kitchen.

He had to get to his dad; he had to see that he was alright. He’d have to deal with what he’d just done to his relationship with Blaine later.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a few more days before Burt was cleared to go home, and while Kurt spent every moment he could at the hospital, Blaine made sure that everything was ready to go when the leader of the Hummel clan returned home. The refrigerator had been restocked from a list that Kurt had put together. And though he’d been told that Burt’s room wasn’t a room Blaine should ever concern himself with, the king sized bed had clean sheets and the dust that had settled over the room that hadn’t been lived in for weeks was wiped away. Blaine stood in the doorway, examining the room and taking a deep breath; the first real deep breath he’d taken in weeks.

Everything since the night of Burt’s heart attack had been one twist and turn after another. Some, like being able to reconnect with Kurt, had been terrifying, but welcome. He’d been given the opportunity to reconnect with someone who meant so much to him. He felt like himself wrapped in Kurt’s arms. But the terrifying days where Kurt’s future had been so uncertain were days that Blaine would be okay with never experiencing again. The last few weeks had been all about Kurt, but now that everything was over, and Burt was awake, Blaine could finally really think about Burt.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t before, but he’d spent so much time worrying about Kurt, that his concern for Burt had taken somewhat of a backseat. In his head, Burt being okay meant that Kurt was okay. But Burt meant just as much to him as Kurt did, and when he finally got a chance to stop worrying so much about Kurt, he got the chance to feel the relief—deep in his bones—that Burt was alright. As Burt walked into the house, slowly, for the first time in weeks that Wednesday evening, Blaine felt the world right itself just a little bit.

 Now that Burt had been home for a few weeks, Blaine had a new routine. He was still up at dawn, and dressed before Kurt left for school. But instead of awkwardly serving Kurt breakfast and hiding in the shadows until he left, Blaine sat next to his best friend while he ate toast and texted Rachel. And when Kurt wrapped his arms around him before he left, Blaine held on just as tight. He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon with Burt. Mostly making sure that he ate and watching TV with him—even after he’d fallen asleep.

“Thank you,” Burt said when Blaine put a plate with a sandwich on the table. While Kurt was at school Blaine let Burt eat lunch in his chair in front of the TV. It was their little secret.

“You’re welcome,” Blaine responded automatically taking a seat on the couch.

“I’m not talking about the sandwich,” Burt said, “Not _just_ the sandwich.”

Blaine looked at him questioningly.

Luckily, Burt, a man who wasn’t much for small talk, but who always used his words for a bigger purpose, continued, “I mean for taking care of me now, and for taking care of Kurt while I was in the hospital. I know it wasn’t easy for you to let him, or me, in again. But you did when he needed you the most and for that I will be eternally grateful to you, Blaine. You’ve saved my son’s life more times that you even realize.”

Blaine was speechless. Simply saying ‘you’re welcome’ didn’t sound like enough anymore and ‘it was my greatest honor’ felt too dramatic. He hadn’t done anything, not really. Burt was thanking him like holding Kurt’s hand and letting him cry on his shoulder made him some kind of hero. He wasn’t a hero. He was nothing more than a common slave. So he just shrugged then settled quietly back on the couch.

Neither he nor Kurt mentioned the kiss they had shared. There wasn’t time with taking care of Burt and Kurt trying to catch up with school before winter break. And with Burt in the house the thought of having that discussion felt so much more daunting. Kurt had kissed him. For the first time in his life a boy—the boy he just so happened to be in love with for years—had kissed him. His first kiss. And he wanted to do it again.

Only he couldn’t— _they_ couldn’t. He knew that.

The law aside, Blaine was well aware that emotions had been running high at the time of the kiss. After weeks and weeks of sadness and uncertainty, they’d finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel. Burt would be okay. So what if the entire kiss had been was a way for Kurt to express his relief? What if Blaine had spent the last few weeks reading too far into everything and it had just simply been a kiss, without any kind of feelings toward Blaine involved?

Slaves could be _used_ like that should a master want to. They had no rights, no legal standing in society. Not that he ever thought Kurt would do that to him, he wouldn’t. But even if Kurt would, that wasn’t something Blaine would want from him. It would ruin everything. Blaine would rather spend the rest of his life with that one kiss than ruin the most important relationship he’d ever had.

The only person Blaine had ever told about his feelings for Kurt had been his mom. It had been a Saturday afternoon toward the end of the summer before high school started and he had been sitting at the piano, tapping out a series of unconnected notes, waiting for inspiration to strike him or for the boredom to pass, when his mom walked into the living room. Kurt and his father had gone away for the weekend and he’d been forced to entertain himself. It wasn’t that Kurt was his only friend; he could have easily called up any of the friends he had who wrote “keep in touch” in his yearbook back in June. But he really didn’t want to do anything with anyone but Kurt. His mother sat down next to him on the piano bench and put a hand on his shoulder while he continued to peck at the ivory keys.

“He’ll be back in the morning,” his mother said with a smile.

“I know,” Blaine said without looking up from the keys.

“Then why the long face?”

Blaine hadn’t realized he’d been looking particularly sad. Maybe his thoughts were graver that he’d realized, “Just thinking.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said looking up to meet his mother’s eyes, “I think so. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” she said rubbing her palm over his shoulders and pack, it was comforting.

“How do you know when you’re in love?”

Blaine could tell from the way that his mother’s soothing hand stopped for just a moment before resuming that she hadn’t expecting his question.

“Well, honey,” Heather said, “I think it’s different for every person, but do you want to know how I knew I loved your father?”

Blaine nodded.

“I knew because he could make me laugh; and because I would get so giddy just by the thought that I would see him or talk to him on the phone. I knew because he was the kindest, most caring person, and he made me feel safe. And at the end of the day, whether good or bad, there was no one else I wanted to talk to or be with.  I wanted to share everything with him, including my life. He became my best friend at the same time I realized that what I felt for him was love.”

“That sounds amazing,” Blaine said.

“Are you in love, Blaine?” his mother’s words weren’t full of any judgement or the unspoken ‘you’re too young to know what love is’. It was just a question and he could tell from her eyes that she seemed…hopeful.

Blaine hesitated for a moment, thinking about everything his mother had said. There was someone who made him feel the same way his father made his mother feel. Not understanding what it was had been scary, but now that he thought he knew what it was, it wasn’t as terrifying. In fact, he embraced it and nodded.

“Is it Kurt?”

Blaine’s eyes widened, worried that if his mother could figure out his secret, that maybe Kurt could to; that maybe he already had. He remembered every movie that he’d seen where someone fell in love with their best friend. It could end well, or he could completely ruin everything and Kurt would run away from him.

“Oh, Blaine,” his mother said giving him a squeeze, “Are you going to tell him?”

“What? No,” Blaine said panicked, “I can’t.”

“You don’t have to tell him as soon as he gets back, but you should tell him. You might be surprised by what happens.”

He decided a week later that he was going to tell Kurt on his birthday, but he’d never gotten the chance before his world imploded. The universe had gotten in his way before and the law was getting in the way now. Blaine knew he was never supposed to be in love with Kurt Hummel. At least not in a world where Kurt Hummel could love him back.

* * *

Blaine knew that now that he was no longer keeping his distance from Kurt, that things would be different; different from a year ago and different from the time before Burt was sick. He’d known it the moment Rachel called Kurt her “best friend” and in the realization that Kurt—and his life—were much different than they used to be. For the first couple of weeks, as December rolled in, it was hard to see the change. Kurt spent most of his nights and the weekend at home where he could look after his father. It was the week before Christmas when it became obvious how different things would be.

Blaine could go with Kurt to the grocery stop, but not to the mall or the coffee shop. He could take a walk around the neighborhood with Kurt right after the first snow, but he couldn’t go to the movies with Kurt and the rest of New Directions the Friday night that started winter break. And he definitely couldn’t go to the party at Santana’s house Saturday night. Well, he probably could have, but the only one who really knew the extent of his relationship with Kurt was Rachel, and it would just be weird. So he opted to stay home and hang out with Burt who would likely go to bed early, and let Kurt go have a little fun. After the last few weeks, he deserved to act like a teenager.

Blaine spent most of the night on the couch next to Burt who kept switching the TV back and forth between the basketball game and some movie. It was hard to really get invested in either because by the time he could pick up on what was going on, Burt had switched the channel. In another life, Burt would have given Blaine a lecture about going out there and having fun while he was young, but the old man knew that being a teenager wasn’t something Blaine could really experience any longer and made little attempt to make conversations. Blaine was happy for the time to think.

Mostly he thought about Kurt. About the year of his life Blaine had missed and hadn’t asked Kurt about. He knew he’d joined Glee club, and that he had all these new friends, but he didn’t know much else. He didn’t know if Kurt had decided what he wanted to do or even thought about where he wanted to go to college. He didn’t know those things about Kurt, not anymore.

And then he realized something.

Sometimes realization hits you. And sometimes it knocks you completely on your ass. Blaine should have realized this sooner, but it was so hard to see the future lately. It was so hard to see past the end of the day. Kurt had new friends and this new life. He was growing up, without Blaine. Kurt would finish high school and go to college and get the most fabulous job. Kurt would have the life they’d dreamed about as kids sitting in their bedrooms thinking about what it would be like to be grownups. Blaine would never have any of that. Blaine would have a life of staying inside the Hummel house and making sure that Burt was taken care of. But where would Kurt be? New York? Los Angeles? Paris? Blaine didn’t know that, but he knew one thing: no matter how much they meant to each other, Kurt was going somewhere Blaine couldn’t follow.

* * *

Christmas had always been one of Blaine’s favorite times of the year. All the decorations and the music that seem to start filling the stores before Thanksgiving. He especially loved it when he and Kurt would sing along while they were doing their Christmas shopping. Granted, most of the time they were dropped off at the mall with money they’d gotten from their parents, but there was something Blaine loved about humming along with Silent Night while picking out the perfect gift for Kurt while he was across the store picking out something for his mom.

Christmas Eve was always at the Anderson house with Blaine’s father’s extended family. Kurt and Blaine used to hide in Blaine’s room most of the night, like it was just a regular night. But every Christmas morning the Hummels and the Andersons would open a few gifts in their respective houses and then the Andersons would walk across the street to open gifts with Burt and Kurt. Even Cooper, in an unusually good mood. Then Burt would make breakfast and the rest of the day would just be lazy.

The Christmas Blaine spent away at training had been one of the better days Blaine had during that year. Most of the staff had the day off for the holiday, so all the trainees were confined to the large room that served as both bedroom and recreational area—though they never really had any time for recreation. But there were no lessons and Blaine sat on his bed and listened as Sam rattled on about something. He wasn’t really paying attention. He was too busy hating how much Christmas no longer felt like Christmas. There wasn’t a single decoration, not a note of a Christmas melody. He couldn’t help but think about what Burt and Kurt were doing. He couldn’t help but imagine what the day would have been like had his parents and Cooper still been alive. But that only opened the wound that still bled inside him. If his parents and Cooper were still alive, he wouldn’t be there. He’d be at home. He wouldn’t have felt so scared and alone.

This year, the Hummel’s house was covered in decorations. He and Kurt spent a Saturday decorating the entire house and the tree. There was Christmas music playing and Blaine felt like things were almost perfect. He still wished his parents and Cooper were there, but he was happy to be out of that grey room and with people who cared about him. Christmas morning Blaine took a seat next to Kurt on the couch and watched as he opened the gifts from his father. He wished he could have gotten something for both Burt and Kurt; something to show his appreciation for everything they’d done for him. But his resources were limited so the only thing he could offer was to recreate the dinner his mother used to make on Christmas Eve. It had been wonderful—and quite emotional—but it wasn’t enough. Especially when Burt handed him a gift of his own.

“Open it,” Burt said when Blaine looked at him curiously, “Kurt picked it out, but it’s from me.”

Blaine knew better than to argue with Burt Hummel, so he pulled the shiny gold paper from the box and lifted the lid to find a green and red bowtie with little circular peppermints all over.

“You probably won’t want to wear it until next year,” Kurt chimed in, “But I know how much you love festive bowties.”

And he did. He hadn’t worn a bowtie since he returned—he didn’t have any—but now he had one. And it as the best one.

“I do,” Blaine said looking at Burt, then Kurt, “I love it. Thank you.”

The next morning Blaine was at the kitchen table when Burt walked in. He didn’t stand, but looked up at the man who had been in his life for so long as he adjusted the Hummel Tire and Lube baseball cap on his head.

“Would you mind coming with me to the garage today, Blaine?” Burt asked, “I could use some help since Kurt is going out with friends, and you could use some time away from this house.”

Blaine smiled. He’d always found safety in the Hummel house, but he could use a change of scenery that wasn’t the grocery store, “That would be great.”

An hour later, Blaine was sitting in Burt’s office sorting through invoices. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing he could be doing, but it sure beat sitting at home while Kurt went out with Mercedes. There was something nice about feeling like he was actually accomplishing something, and he enjoyed the noise of the shop in the background—the sound of the tools and the engines were like music.

“You know,” Burt said walking into the office, “I was thinking that maybe you could work here a few days a week.”

Blaine looked up from an invoice, a very expensive invoice, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Burt said sitting down behind his desk, “I could use someone to do exactly what you’re doing right now and keep track of some of the stuff around the office. And I could pay you…”

“You can’t,” Blaine protested.

“I most certainly can,” Burt responded, “And I want to. You’ve got nothing to do when Kurt’s at school or at Glee practice. The least I can do is give you a couple of hours a day outside the house. So whadaya say?”

Blaine looked at him curiously, but found the seriousness in Burt’s face that he’d grown to recognize over the years, “Yes. I’d love to. That would be great.”

“Good,” Burt said, “Now, finish up here. I’m going to drop you off at home after lunch and you’re going to tell Kurt so he can stop worrying about you so much.”

Blaine smiled and nodded, grateful that there wasn’t much left to do. Though, he was pretty sure he’d never be able to get Kurt to stop worrying.

* * *

Burt dropped Blaine off back at the house with a promise that they’d figure out a schedule for him at the garage later that night.  Blaine felt lighter than he had in a long time as he walked through the door to an empty house. Kurt’s car was in the driveway, but he knew that Mercedes would be driving and he wasn’t expected to be home until much later. He was out enjoying his winter vacation, but that left Blaine with the house to himself. He wondered if the bathroom upstairs needed cleaning at the same time he heard a thud coming from upstairs, followed by a voice that was clearly Kurt’s muttering, “Crap!”

“Kurt?” Blaine called from the bottom of the stairs.

There was silence for a moment and then Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt—an outfit clearly not intended for a day out with friends.

“You’re home!” Kurt said hurriedly, “And I’m not dressed. Oh god, I thought I had more time. Stay right there. Don’t move. Give me five minutes. Do _not_ come up here!”

Blaine blinked and then Kurt was gone. He stayed looking up the stairs like he’d been told. What was going on? Why wasn’t he out with Mercedes? Was that paint on his hands?  Blaine leaned against the banister while keeping his eyes on the picture at the top of the stairs, waiting for Kurt’s return.

It was slightly more than five minutes later when Kurt appeared again, dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey Henley.

“Kurt, what’s going on?” Blaine asked as he began ascending the stairs.

“Well, I’m sure you noticed by now that I haven’t given you your Christmas present. And it wasn’t because I wasn’t going to get you one; because _of course_ I’m getting you a present, Blaine. But I wanted to do something special and the present I had in mind required you to be out of the house. And since you never leave the house, I convinced my dad to take you with him to the garage for a few hours so I could get to work.”

“Kurt, you’re not making any sense.”

“God, I know. I’m sorry,” Kurt said taking him by the elbow and tugging him down the hallway until they stood right outside of Blaine’s bedroom, “But I had this whole thing planned out and then I lost track of time. But if you go into your room, you’ll find your present.”

Blaine eyed Kurt suspiciously, again, but Kurt only nodded in response, nudging him toward the door. When he pushed the door open, he froze at the threshold.

The room he was seeing looked almost unrecognizable from the room he’d left that morning. The walls were painted a navy blue, though there was nothing on them and the room smelled like paint. There were two book shelves in the corner, each filled with song books, novels, and CDs. On the opposite wall were two dressers and on top of the shorter one was the stereo that Blaine immediately recognized from the bedroom in the house across the street, the one Kurt said they’d taken and stored for him. There were new sheets on the bed, new pillows and a comforter. The closet door was still open and Blaine could see that it was full of clothes he hadn’t seen since he returned. Blaine took the whole room in with his heart in his throat. Even though he’d been there for months, the room had been relatively bare and had never really felt like his. Now it was full of his things. And Kurt had done all of this for him.

“Kurt,” he whispered.

“Please tell me you like it,” Kurt said at his side, “Once the paint dries I’ve got some pictures to hang up.

“Kurt,” Blaine repeated, “You did all of this? For me?”

“Of course, I did,” Kurt said instantly, “You’re always spending your time with me in my room or Dad in the living room, but your room never really felt like it was yours. At least I didn’t think so. Everything we took from your house is in there.

“I can’t give you everything I want to,” he said reaching down and taking hold of Blaine’s hand, “I want to give you your freedom back, Blaine. I want you to come to school with me and sing with me in Glee club and hold my hand at the movies. I want all my friends—not just Rachel—to know how amazing you are, Blaine. I wish I could give you all of that. But I can’t. I can only give you this. I can give you a space that’s yours. And I really hope that you can think of it that way too.”

Everything Blaine was feeling felt like too much. A wicked combination of happiness, thankfulness, and _love_ filled him until his heart was racing and there were tears in his eyes and there was only one thought in his mind, only one need that every nerve ending was screaming for. He didn’t care of he shouldn’t, he didn’t care if it meant that Kurt would push him away. He only wanted one thing. He let go of Kurt’s hand only to reach out and grab onto the loop of Kurt’s pants and pull him until there was only an inch of space between them. Before he could second guess himself, Blaine reached up and took Kurt’s face in both of his hands, then leaned in and pressed his lips against Kurt’s. There was only a moment of hesitation in Kurt’s body before his hand moved to sit firmly on Blaine’s hip. Blaine was nearly certain that Kurt was kissing him back before the other boy pulled away, his blue eyes wide. Instead of love, Blaine saw fear.

“We-we can’t,” Kurt said, his voice was low and unsteady.

Whatever hope that had been building in Blaine since their last kiss, since the moment he realized that he was in love with Kurt, disintegrated in a moment. He should have never let it had gotten so big so that the aftermath didn’t leave him so devastated, but he couldn’t help the thoughts, hope, and the possibility from staying in his head for longer than they should have. Kurt was right. Of course they couldn’t.

“We can’t tell anyone,” Kurt clarified, his voice slight louder and surer, surprising Blaine, “Not even dad.”

Blaine looked at him confused. Because there was no way that Kurt was saying what Blaine thought he was hearing. There was no way that after everything—and in spite of everything—that this was finally happening, “You…”

With a timid smile, Kurt nodded, “Yeah,” he took a step closer to Blaine, back to being close enough so that he could wrap his arms around Blaine’s neck. If Blaine had a choice he would spend his entire life with Kurt wrapped around him like that, “So much.”

And then he leaned in and kissed him. It was the first time they kissed where it wasn’t because of some big overwhelming thing. This kiss wasn’t fueled by relief or desperation. It was a kiss because Kurt wanted to kiss him, and Blaine kissed him back because Kurt was the only thing he ever really wanted.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The great thing about school breaks was that it didn’t mean that the rest of the world was on vacation too. Most importantly, it meant that Burt still had to go into the garage while Kurt and Blaine were left home, alone. At first, Blaine thought that Burt would want him to go with that morning, especially when he insisted that he was only going in for a few hours to handle some end of the year paperwork, but Burt told Blaine to enjoy the next few days. He would start at the garage after the new year.

Burt probably wouldn’t have been so accommodating had he known exactly what his son and Blaine were planning on doing with the time that Burt had given them, but Blaine forgot all about everything outside of his bedroom while Kurt was lying next to him on his best, kissing him slowly.

Blaine thought there would be some kind of awkward transition while he and Kurt maneuvered their ways through this new piece of their relationship. But this piece, he learned, was one that they’d both wanted years ago, but had always been too afraid to reach out and take. So the new intimacy between them felt as natural as being friends did. The only thing that felt strange was all the hiding. They couldn’t tell anyone, not even Burt or Rachel, about the change because the consequences were too severe. They’d agreed that they’d risk everything by themselves, but wouldn’t dare jeopardize anyone they cared about. So this meant that Blaine couldn’t hold Kurt’s hand at the dinner table or kiss him goodnight before they went to bed—at least not in the way he wanted to. And it meant that the time they could spend exploring each other on this new level was regulated to the times when Burt wasn’t around. Which wasn’t often enough.

Blaine pulled away from one of the dozens of kisses he and Kurt had shared since Burt’s truck pulled out of the driveway with a question on his mind. A question that had been nagging him for months now, but he hadn’t felt like he could approach the subject with Kurt until now, when he knew that their relationship was the strongest it had ever been.

“I feel like we’ve never really had a chance to catch up,” Blaine said, his head on the pillow watching as his index finger softly traced the bend in Kurt’s elbow, “Everything was about your dad for so long and I feel like there is so much more that happened while I was away that you haven’t told me about yet.”

Kurt propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand, “There isn’t much to tell. I spent a lot of time counting the days until we could bring you home.”

“There’s got to be something,” Blaine said, “What about Glee club?”

“I signed up to audition the day my dad told me he wanted to bring you home,” Kurt told him, “I know we talked about joining together and I almost didn’t do it.  But I had my audition two days later.”

“What did you sing?” Blaine asked, grateful that Kurt had still joined without him, jealous that he couldn’t have been there.

“Bring Him Home,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine felt warm inside as he responded, “Good choice,” knowing that Kurt had sung it for him.

Kurt smiled, “I knew you’d approve.”

Blaine kissed him before he spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

This was the question that Blaine needed the answer to the most. This was the question that he’d had since he first saw Kurt at city hall all those months ago. Kurt would never be his boyfriend—he could never _be_ his boyfriend—but they had begun this new part of their relationship and Blaine was curious, “Have you…have  you ever done this with anyone?” he asked already jealous of someone who might not even exist. But he had to know if Kurt had ever let someone else into his heart.

Kurt shook his head and reached for Blaine’s hand, lacing their fingers together, “No. You haven’t missed anything regarding this,” he pulled their joined hangs to his lips and kissed the knuckle of Blaine’s middle finger, “Except a couple of embarrassing crushes on straight guys. Although, Mercedes once had a crush on me, if you can believe that.”

“I can, actually,” Blaine said. Anyone who didn’t find themselves drawn to Kurt in every way was an idiot. But hearing about Kurt’s crushes, and even Mercedes crush on Kurt, hadn’t made him jealous or upset. In fact, it made him smile. Blaine was glad because he got to be part of Kurt Hummel’s history in a way that no one else would. He got to be the first boy to kiss him, the first boy to hold his hand, the first boy to tell him that he loved him. That he’d loved him for so long.

“What about you?” Kurt asked, his words and the way his thumb was making circles in the skin on the back of his hand pulling Blaine back to the present.

“Me? You don’t exactly get a chance to do something like this in a room full of strangers and people watching you at nearly every hour of the day.”

“No crushes?” Kurt inquired further, his self-conscious eyes not looking at Blaine, “What about Sam?”

Blaine used a finger to tip Kurt’s chin until he was looking him in the eye, “No,” he told him, firm and determined for Kurt to understand, “Besides, even if it I did, it would go right along with your embarrassing crushes on straight guys.”

“Oh,” Kurt smiled as his cheeks reddened.

“Yes, oh,” Blaine said smiling before he placed a quick kiss on Kurt’s lips, before he spoke the next words that came out of his mouth as naturally and as truth as if Blaine had said his own name, “Kurt, I’ve been in love with you for…well, for as long as I can remember.”

Kurt’s eyes widened and Blaine thought for a moment that he’d scared him; that despite everything they’d done and confessed in the last few days, that the words that had just come out of Blaine’s mouth were too big for Kurt. But when he saw the tears beginning to pool in Kurt’s eyes, he realized it wasn’t fear. It was amazement, “Really?”

“Really,” Blaine told him, never more sure of anything in his life, “It was you—the thought of you—that I held onto. Even when I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I told you we’d see each other again someday,” Kurt said, gripping Blaine’s hand tighter.

“I know,” Blaine told him, gripping back, “I just didn’t know how long you’d wait.”

“I’ll always be waiting, Blaine,” Kurt told him, “I’m in love with you, too.”

For all the bad things that Blaine had lived through, it was moments like this that felt like the universe was trying to find a way to pay him back. It couldn’t give him much, but it could give him the boy he loved, who loved him back, and a few hours of time to relish in the goodness of it all. And Blaine had every intention of taking advantage of it.

* * *

When the doorbell rang just after lunch time, the boys were curled up on the couch in the living room, tangled together beneath a blanket. They knew that Burt would be home soon and that they would have to go back to pretending like they hadn’t been kissing for the last few hours; like they weren’t madly in love.

“Just ignore it,” Kurt said snuggling deeper into Blaine’s side.

But Blaine sat up straighter, adding distance between himself and Kurt, “What if it’s someone from city hall? What if it’s Ms. Clarke stopping in for an unexpected visit?”

“They can do that?” Kurt responded, suddenly a little more concerned about who was at the door.

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, “But I really don’t want to find out that it is while we’re sitting here like this.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt said after a sigh, untangling himself from around Blaine and the blanket they’d been wrapped in, “At least we aren’t in our pajamas. I’ll see who’s at the door and you go pretend you’re doing laundry or something.”

Blaine disappeared upstairs, ready to return to the living room with the dirty clothes from Kurt’s hamper had he needed to. But it was only thirty second before Kurt was calling his name. When he came back downstairs, Kurt was in the living room, alone, his back toward Blaine.

“Who was at the door?” he asked

“No one,” Kurt said turning around with a big brown envelope on his hand.

“Did you order something?”

“No,” Kurt said, “When I opened the door, there wasn’t anyone there. But this was on the porch.”

As Blaine came closer he could see that Kurt’s name had been written on the front of the envelope.  With a glance at Blaine, Kurt ripped open the brown envelope and pulled out the contents, a smaller white envelope with a post it note attached to the front.

“Please give this to Blaine,” Kurt read aloud, “If this causes trouble please know that Blaine doesn’t know anything about this.”

Kurt pulled the post it off of the envelope and handed to Blaine who examined it for a few moments before tearing the seal open and pulling out the single piece of paper that was folded inside. As he unfolded the page, he immediately recognized the messy handwriting inside. It matched the handwriting of the note he’d tossed into the trash can more than six months before. He knew who this was from before he read a single word.

_Blaine,_

_I came looking for you in Columbus and you weren’t there. I heard from graham…whose back for the 5 th time btw…that you got bought up by the Humels and I remembered that you talked about kurt a bunch and that his last name was Humel wasn’t it? So I tracked down his address and man I hope this finds you. I hope that you don’t get in any trouble over this letter but I had to risk it! _

_I found it Blaine. I found a place where we can live…free. It’s in Tennessee which is super cool and I’ve already got a tent and everything setup there. I met this chick her name is Quinn and we came to get you and we’re not going back until you agree to go with us._

_Theres a park down the street from your house. Get your stuff and meet us there at midnight on Saturday. We’ll wait for a while in case your masters don’t go to bed before that but sneak out and meet us there and we can go back to Tennessee together. I owe you so much more than this but if I can start with getting you out of there then I can make up the rest later._

_Remember. Midnight. Saturday._

_Sam_

Blaine reread the letter three more times. Each time making sure that he understood. Not only had Sam found the camp that was supposed to allow runaway slaves a sanctuary, but he’d come back for Blaine. In the six months before Blaine went up for auction, he always hoped that Sam would come back; but he never actually thought it would happen. Blaine never really believed that freedom existed, but he had proof that it was real and Sam wanted him to join him. On Saturday. That was three days away.  For a moment he imagined what it would be like to see Sam again, to run away and gain was semblance of freedom again. But when he looked over at Kurt, the image was gone.

“Who’s it from?” Kurt asked breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“Sam,” he responded, “He tracked me down.”

“Wow,” Kurt said, “For what?”

“He found it,” Blaine said, his voice quiet, his entire body still stunned, “He found freedom.”

Blaine couldn’t seem to make his mouth and tongue work together to form the words to tell Kurt that Sam had also come back for him; he’d come back to take him away. If it had been six months before, he would have. He would have run away with Sam and maybe one day he would have found a way to see Kurt.  But he’d managed to get back to Kurt without Sam and running away felt wrong, a betrayal of everything that Burt had done for him and a betrayal of everything that Kurt meant to him.  Blaine didn’t know if what Sam was offering was freedom anymore, not for him. Sam was offering a life of hiding from the real world, but free to eat, sleep, and breathe as he pleased. He would never have to endure the stress of another evaluation, or get a dirty look at the grocery store. He wouldn’t have to feel like he was less than he once was, than everyone else. But how different were things at the Hummel’s? Didn’t Burt let him do everything that he could so much as the laws would allow? Didn’t Burt promise to sing Blaine’s praises at every evaluation? Were the dirty looks bearable if he got to back to a house with two people who cared about him? Was there really freedom in being separated from Kurt?

“That’s great,” Kurt said.

“I know,” Blaine said, and realized it was time for something he should have done a long time ago, “Can you sit down?  I need to tell you something.”

Kurt agreed and took a seat on the couch; Blaine followed and sat beside him with a bit of space between them.

“I want to tell you how I got my scar,” Blaine told him.

Kurt’s eyes were wide as he nodded, “Okay.”

“Sam was,” Blaine started, and then corrected himself, “is a bit of a troublemaker. Not in the bad boy rebel kind of way, but in the class clown kind of way. He was always making the instructors mad by just doing goofy things.  Though, I don’t know why because every time he did something he’d get punished: whippings, missed meals, solitary confinement. Whatever they thought would teach him a lesson. But he knew what he was doing and he never seemed to care. I don’t know many times he had to endure a day of physical training with a  welt the size of a baseball on his leg or a cut bleeding on his arm; but he just kept doing these things that got him into trouble.”

Blaine took a moment to look at Kurt who was watching him as he told the story he’d never told a soul. Kurt nodded and Blaine continued.

“One day he did something really stupid. In the middle of the night, he broke into Mr. Henderson’s office—he was probably the scariest guy I’ve seen in my entire life—and he took the statue off his bookshelf,” Blaine explained, “I guess Mr. Henderson was some kind of acclaimed instructor and they gave him a trophy so that he could brag about it. I had no idea he’d done this until we were woken up the next morning by Mr. Henderson screaming about the trophy and how they were going to search everyone’s bunk. They’re halfway to Sam and me when I see the trophy underneath Sam’s pillow and Sam’s freaking out. It was the only time I’ve ever seen Sam afraid. And I know, I just _know_ , that if they catch him with the trophy, they’re going to kill him. They can’t put those who can’t cooperate up for auction and the only other option is death. They have no use for those who are not useful to them. And this is the last straw for Sam. So I snatched the trophy from beneath Sam’s pillow and threw it beneath mine. Sam was still arguing with me when they checked out beds and found it. Mr. Henderson slapped me across the face and then I was dragged away.”

Blaine couldn’t look at Kurt as he told him the next part, “There were thirty lashes with the whip, that’s what caused the scar. It bled for days. I don’t think I ate that entire day—not that I could have with my swollen jaw and I spent two days in solitary confinement. But it was worth it because it was better than Sam dying,” Blaine said, the tears pouring from the eyes that refused to look up, “When I got out Sam seemed to be behaving and then a few days later, I woke up and he was gone. I haven’t heard from him until now.”

Kurt’s choppy breath made Blaine look up to see that Kurt was crying. Tears running down both of his cheeks with the most pained expression on his face. And a moment later Kurt had his arms wrapped around Blaine, holding him tight.

* * *

“I want to borrow Blaine,” Rachel said from her seat at the piano bench. She and Kurt were doing some extra practicing during lunch.

“Borrow him?” Kurt asked leaning against the side of the piano.

“I thought it would be a nicer way of asking if I could hire him to play piano and sing at the New Year’s Eve party. I think there would be something sophisticated about live music.”

“We always end up doing a ton of karaoke. Why do you need live music?”

“Because I also invited some of the other students from my dance class and I may have told them that I was having live entertainment,” Rachel told him, “And while I really meant that we would be providing our own music, I told them I was having a pianist come who could also sing.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Kurt, you know how I have a perpetual need to be liked and I thought that maybe they would like me more if they thought I was throwing a really classy party.”

“But you’re not.”

“I know,” Rachel whined, “But maybe Blaine could play the piano while we sing. It’ll be more cover band less karaoke.”

“He’s not for sale.”

“Come on, Kurt,” Rachel begged.

“You’ve never even heard him sing.”

“No. But I may have looked up his credentials online and they say that he is highly skilled in both of the services for which I would need,” Rachel said leaving Kurt flabbergasted, “Plus, I trust your judgement. So can I borrow him, please? I’ll pay you kindly.”

Kurt crossed his arms over chest, “I’m not renting him out to you for the evening,” he told her, “But I will ask him if he’ll play.”

“You can’t just…agree to this on his behalf? It’s not like he can tell you no.”

“He can, and you know it. I thought now that you knew about Blaine that you’d be more…I don’t know…accepting.”

“I accept that you and Blaine share something unique, though it being public knowledge will, without a doubt, ruin your reputation. And Blaine seems like a nice guy.  But It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a slave, Kurt,” Rachel said, speaking only of his friendship with Blaine. There was no one they could trust with the rest of it.

“He’s a person,” Kurt reminded her, angry.

“I know. And I believe in freedom, you know that I do. But the argument you’re trying to have with me goes much deeper than the request I’ve made. I want to impress my friends from my new dance school.”

“I’ll ask him,” Kurt repeated, “And I’ll have an answer to you by the end of the night.”

Later that afternoon a very astounding YES echoed through the entire house before Blaine hugged Kurt.

“I might be a little rusty,” Blaine said, “But that sounds wonderful. I’m glad she asked you if I could.”

Kurt wasn’t sure how he felt about Rachel’s proposal, or about the way she had been speaking. He’d told her all about his relationship with Blaine—except for the new parts—because he thought she saw the world the way he did. That regardless of what society had labeled slaves, they were still people, and they should be treated as such. He wouldn’t have made Blaine go if he didn’t have the biggest smile on his face. If he didn’t love that doing this would bring Blaine so much happiness.

Even still, despite the fact that Blaine captivated everyone with his voice, and with his piano playing, the New Year Eve party was a complete disaster. At least in the beginning. From the moment the party started the room was divided: New Directions on one side, Rachel’s friends from dance class on the other. No one seemed at all interested in each other and kept to themselves. Kurt could almost see the rolled eyes from the stage while he sang a duet with Mercedes while Blaine played a few feet away. He shot Blaine a wink and he felt like he was flying when Blaine smiled at him, big and bright and the only place Kurt knew his heart would be happy.

Now he was sitting with Tina while Blaine was going through a very nice rendition of Since You’ve Been Gone that sounded so much better than the original, midnight quickly approaching.

“Have you ever kissed anyone at midnight on New Years?” she asked.

“No,” Kurt said, but he’d wanted to. Two years ago. And he then was immediately struck with the most marvelous, amazing, absolutely perfectly romantic idea. He would have hugged Tina and thanked her for the inspiration if he didn’t think it would cause suspicion for what he was about to do.

He was on his way to the piano before Blaine finished the song and by the time the last note rang out, his hand was on Blaine’s shoulder, “Will you come outside with me?”

Rachel appeared a second later, a platter of sparkling grape juice in her hand, and one in Finn’s, announcing there were only three more minutes until midnight. It was perfect. Kurt took hold of Blaine’s hand, not caring if anyone saw it and thought something of it. Right now he didn’t care.

“I left something in my car,” Kurt said as he and Blaine moved past Rachel, “I need Blaine’s help.”

“But it’s almost midnight,” Rachel wailed.

“I know. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for Rachel to argue or question, he didn’t turn back to see what the faces of his friends—or Rachel’s friends—looked like. He just hurried up the stairs, practically dragging Blaine behind him, never letting go of his hand. He should have thought to grab their coats before they were out the front door, but Kurt knew he had a limited amount of time and he wanted this moment to be special. He wanted to have something that resembled normal with Blaine. And there was nothing he wanted more right now than to kiss Blaine at midnight.

“Kurt,” Blaine said trying to catch his breath when they arrived at Kurt’s car, “What is going on?”

Their hands still linked, Kurt pulled Blaine close to him. Wrapped his arms around him partially for warmth because really, not grabbing their jackets wasn’t the best idea, but also because there was nothing but shadow surrounding his car, no one would see them. Kurt loved how Blaine wrapped his arms around him, how it felt to feel his fingers stroke his shirt were it sat along his waist and make him shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. From one of the neighboring houses he heard cheering, and Kurt knew that the clock had struck midnight and a new year had begun. And he got to start it in the arms of the boy he loved. The boy he would love for the rest of his life. Despite the obstacles that have been thrown at them, and those that were still to come. But they would get through them, he knew they would.

“Happy New Year, Blaine,” he said and then he pressed his lips against Blaine’s and everything felt like the fireworks that they probably had on TV right now. 

Blaine cupped his cheek with his hand, deepening the kiss, pulling Kurt closer with the other hand. It didn’t matter to either of them that it was freezing outside, that there were two inches of snow on the ground, or that they were pressed up against Kurt’s cold car. What mattered was each other. That they loved each other.

“Happy New Year, Kurt,” Blaine said pulling away for a moment before placing another quick kiss on Kurt’s lips, “You didn’t really leave anything in your car did you?”

Kurt blushed and shook his head, “I wanted to kiss you at midnight.”

Blaine smiled. The smile that made Kurt’s head swell and soar until he felt like he was flying.

“I really appreciate the romantic gesture, Kurt,” Blaine said rubbing his hands up and down Kurt’s arms, “But it’s freezing out here.”

Kurt laughed, “I love you.”

Blaine responded with another quick kiss, “I love you.”

No one said anything when they walked back into Rachel’s basement ten minutes after midnight, red from the cold, and without whatever it was that Kurt had left in his car.

* * *

Burt knew from the moment he woke up the morning of Blaine’s second evaluation that there was something…off about the day. Maybe it was Kurt’s nervous energy that hadn’t been there for Blaine’s last evaluation. Or maybe it was the way Kurt was thoroughly upset that not only did he have to stay in his room during the evaluation, but Blaine would have to stay in his as well. It was the first real time that Kurt had to realize that there was a difference between the way they did things in their house, and the way they should be done according to the law. Kurt was just going to have to play pretend for a couple of hours. Blaine’s hand on Kurt’s shoulder rationalizing everything for him—of course he would listen to Blaine over his own father—didn’t go unnoticed, but Burt let it go. For now. Something was different between them, he could feel it. But he was going to get through this evaluation before he thought too much about it. 

With Kurt in his room, Blaine let Ms. Clarke into the house like he had what seemed like a year ago, at least to Burt, when it had only been months, and then disappeared upstairs to his bedroom to wait. Burt found himself sitting across from Ms. Clarke. The last time she was here she had been a rather kind woman, especially considering her occupation, and had smiled politely as she began her questioning. The woman in front of Burt now came off as cold to him.

“How are things going with Blaine, Mr. Hummel?” she asked in a professional tone, void of any kind of emotion.

“Things are great,” Burt told her, “Blaine works hard.”

And that wasn’t anything but the truth. Despite the wonderful fact that Blaine was slipping back into his role as a member of their family, instead of a slave, Blaine still insisted on cleaning up, doing laundry, and other various chores, including making dinner most nights. This was on top of his work at the garage.

“And his behavior? He’s acting appropriately?”

“Of course,” Burt answered surprised by Ms. Clarke’s questioning, “He’s perfect.”

Blaine was nothing more than the good kid he’d always been and he’d taken care of Kurt while Burt had been in the hospital. Those weeks meant more to Burt than he’d ever be able to express.

“Mr. Hummel,” Ms. Clarke said crossing her legs, “Are you aware that Blaine has a disciplinary infraction on his record?”

“A what?”

“Disciplinary action had to be taken against Blaine about six months before he went up for auction. It was a one-time offense, but he was caught stealing and had to be punished. Someone should have told you this before you brought him home.”

“They didn’t,” Burt said, “But why are you telling me now?”

“I’m going to be frank with you,  Mr. Hummel,” Ms. Clarke said, “I’ve not only come to check in on Blaine, but I’ve also come with a proposal from Ms. June Dolloway.”

Burt immediately recognized the name—as the socialite she was, but also as the woman who tried to outbid him during Blaine’s auction, “What does she want?”

“Blaine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. Dolloway has offered to purchase Blaine again should he go back to auction,” Ms. Clarke explained, “She’s even willing to throw a little extra in your direction should you be willing to sell him back to the federal government. Truth be told, Mr. Hummel, Blaine was promised to Ms. Dolloway before he even went up for auction. We just never expected anyone else to want him.”

 _How could they not want him?_  Burt thought to himself.

“Please express my apologies to Ms. Dolloway,” Burt said, “But Blaine is staying here.”

“Would you be willing to discuss this with Ms. Dolloway? Perhaps over dinner.”

“Listen, lady,” Burt said, careful to not raise his voice so that it didn’t travel upstairs, “I understand what you’re doing, but there isn’t an offer on this planet that will make me give Blaine up.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Hummel,” Ms. Clarke said gathering her things, “I will let Ms. Dolloway know of your response, but I expect that you’ll be hearing from her, or her lawyers, again soon.”

Burt narrowed his eyes, “Is that a threat, Ms. Clarke?”

“No, Mr. Hummel. It’s just the truth,” Ms. Clarke said standing, “Should you fetch Blaine, now?”

“I can let you out the door myself,” Burt explained standing and guiding Ms. Clarke to the door, eager to get her out of his house and away from his family.

A few minutes later Kurt came hesitantly down the stairs and found his father standing quietly against the closed door.

“Dad, is everything okay? Are you feeling alright?”

Burt took a deep breath and looked at his son, “Yeah, buddy. Everything’s fine.”

And there was not a single thing Burt wouldn’t do to make sure it stayed that way.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, Lovelies! Sorry about all the delay! Thank you for all the love you've given this story!  
> Big thank you Christine and Laura being both a spectacular beta (Christine) and amazing cheerleaders (both of them!) I don't think I would have made it this far without you!

The dream Blaine woke up from felt more like a nightmare in the early morning darkness that filled his room. The dream itself had been pleasant. In fact, it was beautiful. A day in the park with Kurt, enjoying the summer sun, talking about nothing in particular as they watched the people around them: all peacefully in their own worlds, yet connected to each other and to them. Their fingers were entwined together, placed carelessly between them on the bench, as they enjoyed some time just being. They weren't in Lima. No, this park was far away, but somehow still felt like home. The breeze was warm on their skin, but Kurt still curled into Blaine's side, sighing contently. But just before Blaine opened his eyes, the Kurt in his dreams turned his head toward Blaine and whispered, "You love me, right?" and it was those words that had jolted Blaine awake, panting in the quiet. The secrets he'd been keeping from Kurt clearly taunting him, even in his dreams.

Kurt and Blaine had made a promise to each other on the floor of Kurt's bedroom when they were eleven; a promise that no matter what, they would never keep anything a secret from each other. They were best friends and this stipulation seemed mandatory and they swore on it. But, even so, Blaine could count on one hand the number of time he'd broken that promise—the most important being when he kept his feelings for Kurt a secret—and each time it felt like the world was going to come crashing down on him. He knew that Kurt had broken the promise as well, and each time they usually came to each other and confessed everything after a few days. But this time, Blaine couldn't bring himself to say the words. Everything felt so much bigger than it ever had before—even when his own feelings were involved. It was bigger. There was not one, but two things that Blaine hadn't told Kurt.

He knew he should have been truthful about the contents of Sam's letter when Kurt had asked. He should have told Kurt all about Sam's invitation to run away, but he wasn't sure that he could tell Kurt and not reveal, that for a brief moment, he'd thought about it. Kurt could always see right through him. But while he read Sam's letter, for one single heartbeat, he thought about what life would be like if he could find freedom too. If he could escape the life he was forced to live. But it was only a momentary thought and by the time it had passed he was sure that he wouldn't go. Because the life he was forced to live meant being with Kurt, and he'd promise him that he would never leave him. And that was a promise he intended to keep, so long as it was in his power (and these days, not much was). However, it was looking like any power that he had was about to be taken away.

What was worse,  _so_ much worse, was that there was more than just the contents of Sam's letter that Blaine had yet to tell Kurt about. Though, the second thing he wasn't even supposed to know. During Blaine's second evaluation, the door to his bedroom hadn't been closed completely. It hadn't been intentional, in his hurry to get into his room he hadn't noticed that the door wasn't closed until it was too late to close it without drawing attention to himself. Considering the nature of Ms. Clarke's conversation with Burt, that would not have gone well for anyone. So just like he'd done during his first evaluation, Blaine sat next to the door, listening loosely to the conversation that was taking place downstairs. He didn't hear everything, but he'd heard enough: Burt's praise, Ms. Clarke's questions about Blaine's behavior, and the threats from June Dolloway.

It wasn't uncommon for a slave to be reserved for someone wealthy to fit particular needs—be it entertainment or something more risqué—but Blaine never imagined that it would have happened to him. But even with a promise, the slave owners still had to go through the proper procedures and when the Hummels had shown up to get Blaine, they had clearly thrown a wrench in whatever plans Ms. Dolloway had for him. It seemed now, months later, she was still determined to get him in her possession. Blaine had no idea what she wanted him for, but if she was driven to threats, his imagination was running in terrifying circles. He knew that Burt would never let him go without fighting tooth and nail, but what would it cost him? What would it cost all of them? Would anything be enough if Ms. Dolloway went to the drastic lengths that Ms. Clarke had implied she would?

At first Blaine didn't say anything to Kurt because he was certain that Burt would sit both of them down and explain the situation. Burt Hummel had always been honest, even in the most difficult times. But it had been weeks and there hadn't been a world from the eldest Hummel; not at home and not during the hours Blaine spent in the office at the garage on the weekdays. Every time Blaine thought about approaching the subject with Kurt, there was always something that distracted him—usually Kurt—before he could figure out the words. Telling Kurt would only cause him to worry. He'd freak out and want to do something, anything, to make sure that June Dolloway never got what she wanted. But there was nothing any of them could do if it came down to it. Ms. Dolloway had money, and it was clear that she had some very powerful people in her pocket. So instead, Blaine tried to push every thought of Ms. Dolloway from his mind; he tried not to think that at any moment Ms. Clarke could bust through the door and take him away. But in the moments when he couldn't forget, when he thought about the secrets that he was keeping, he had a difficult time pretending that everything was okay—especially with Kurt. He was acting strange and he, and Kurt, knew it. The secret of the one who he could have left with and the threat of the one that could take him away made him distant and quiet in the precious time they had together. He should tell Kurt, he knew that. Because of a promise he made in another life to his best friend, and the unspoken promise he'd made by being with Kurt now. But when Kurt smiled at him, there wasn't anything better in the world. And if telling Kurt could take away that smile, then Blaine could see no harm in bearing the burdens on his own.

* * *

Kurt was appreciative that his father gave Blaine weekends off because it gave them both the morning and some of the afternoon on Saturday to spend with each other—doing things he knew his father wouldn't approve of. Not that Burt would ever disapprove of him being with Blaine—and they weren't doing much more than kissing—had the situation been different. Every time Kurt hugged, kissed, or cuddled with Blaine, they were breaking the law; and one wrong move could send Blaine away forever. His father would never accept such a risk. Though Kurt liked to think—daydreaming in the moments when Mr. Schuester was babbling on about something ridiculous—that had their lives been different, and they both were free, that his dad would be happy for him, for them. In his daydreams, Kurt sat his father down and told him about how he loved Blaine and that he wanted to marry him, and start a life and a family. And that Blaine wanted those things too. But it was an impossible dream and Mr. Schuester pulled him harshly back to reality every time. He could only hope now for a day that he could tell his father the truth.

It was late in the morning and Kurt was lying on top of Blaine's bed. He sighed into the room. He didn't have to worry about his future with Blaine now; they'd figure all of that out later. It wasn't like Blaine was going anywhere. They had time. Today, Kurt was going to spend the last Saturday he had free before regionals rehearsals got intense with the boy who made him happy, who he loved, and who was currently downstairs making them brunch. Kurt had wanted to join him, to at least sit at the kitchen table while Blaine cooked, but Blaine had been adamant about doing something special for Kurt and had left him alone with his thoughts. He should have followed him down anyway.

Kurt's eyes scanned the room that he'd spent so much time decorating. Every minute had been worth in when he'd seen the look on Blaine's face when he'd seen what he'd done. They spent most of their time together in Blaine's room now that it felt more like Blaine's room rather than their guest room. The room felt lived in now, with color on the walls and the bookshelves and dressers full of things that belonged to Blaine. There was a book sitting on top of the desk that caught Kurt's attention and Kurt pushed himself off the bed to look at it. He hadn't seen Blaine reading anything since he'd been back, but there was a folded piece of notebook paper that Blaine had been using as a bookmark about a quarter of the way through the paperback. Kurt flipped through the pages, stopping when he reached the bookmark and noticed that there were things written down. Kurt pulled the paper from the book and before he could think better of it, unfolded it. The handwriting wasn't neat and the penciled letters smudged in places. When he saw that the first line read "Dear Blaine" Kurt instantly knew that it was not Blaine who'd written this, but it was the letter received weeks ago from Sam.

He'd quit being jealous of Sam long before the letter arrived on the porch, but Kurt still found himself curious about the boy who Blaine had befriended, and who Blaine cared about enough to endure painful punishments for. Kurt read the words that Sam wrote once and felt a tinge of sadness zap his heart. As he read it a second time, it was anger. Why had Blaine told him that Sam had written to tell him that he'd found this camp that offered some semblance of freedom, but failed to tell him that Sam had offered Blaine a chance to go back with him? Why had Blaine lied to him?

Now that he knew, a few things began making sense to Kurt. Something had been off with Blaine for the last few weeks, but Kurt never questioned him about it. He told himself before he and Blaine were even on speaking terms that no matter what, he would never push Blaine into talking about something when he wasn't ready. He understood that there were going to be things that he struggled with, a year's worth of pain and sadness, which was hard enough to think about, that Blaine would be dealing with for a long time, possibly forever. But this was different. This was something that had happened with Kurt by his side. And the conclusion that Kurt came to then caused the pressure to build behind his eyes and he felt a little lightheaded.

The sound of Blaine coming up the stairs gave Kurt two options: he could put the letter back, pretend like nothing happened, and be sitting on the bed when Blaine came back the room. Or he could confront Blaine and throw away the little bit of the day they had left to be with each other and get the answers he craved. When the door opened, and Blaine walked in with a plate of waffles in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other, the letter was still in Kurt's hand and the question "were you going to tell ?" had passed his lips before he could stop them.

Blaine froze and his brow tightened, "Tell you what?"

Kurt held up the letter, "That you were going to run away with Sam."

"You read that?" Blaine questioned stalking over to the desk, putting down the plate and syrup on the desk and pulling the letter from Kurt's hand. The fact that Blaine hadn't denied his accusation was making his queasy.

"Yes," Kurt said. Now that the conversation was started, he might as well finish it—and before his dad got home, "And now I know what Sam really wanted."

"It doesn't matter what Sam wanted."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt questioned, "When I asked you about the letter, why did you lie to me?"

"Because," Blaine said, his mouth stayed open but nothing came out for a moment until, "I don't know."

"You wanted to go with him," Kurt said. It wasn't a question.

"No!" Blaine shouted without hesitation, but Kurt could see everything in his eyes.

"But you thought about it," Again, not a question.

Blaine took a deep breath, "Maybe. But I was never going to go."

"Why not?" Kurt probed, "He was offering you your freedom."

"Because," Blaine said taking a hesitant step toward Kurt, "I promised you I wasn't going to leave you."

"If you hadn't, or if we still weren't talking, would you have gone?" Kurt asked though he was certain he knew the answer. He just wanted desperately to be wrong.

"It doesn't matter," Blaine argued.

"I think you would have," Kurt told him, "And I would have understood even if I might have hated you for it."

"That's why I didn't tell you," Blaine told him, "I didn't want you to think that I would do that."

"Except now I think that you still might go," Kurt said, "Or worse, that there is more than you've kept from me."

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "There is."

"There's more?" Kurt asked in amazement. When Blaine nodded, the uneasiness in his stomach built.

"June Dolloway wants to buy me from your father," Blaine said.

Kurt eyed Blaine confused, "I don't understand."

"You might want to sit down for this," Blaine said before he launched into the full story. He told everything from what he'd heard from his open bedroom door: from Blaine being promised to Ms. Dolloway to the threats that she'd casually made.

"That's insane," Kurt said, "My dad would never do that."

"I know," Blaine said, "But he might be put into a situation where he has to make a choice. And I won't let him chose me over whatever they put him up against."

"We won't let that happen."

"We won't have a choice."

Kurt was angry. Angry at Blaine for keeping secrets from him, angry at his father for not telling him about this himself, angry at the stupid government who'd done this to Blaine and so many other people. And he seemed like the only person who was willing to fight, "So, what, you've already given up?"

"I'm not even trying to fight, Kurt," Blaine said, "I'm not going to surrender either. If they decide to push this they could go after your dad, or his shop, or even you. I'm not letting any of that happen. If it comes down to it, there isn't going to be another alternative."

"Of course there will be."

"No, Kurt," Blaine said sternly, surprising Kurt, "There isn't. The entire system was created to make money and June Dolloway is offering a lot of it. I don't understand why, but she is. They don't care about me, or even her. They care about their money."

"I can't believe you won't even fight," Kurt said standing up from the bed. He needed to move, to pace, to do something.

"It's not worth it."

"We're not worth it?" Kurt asked.

Blaine looked up at him from his bed and shook his head, "No."

It was one word, two letters, but they hit Kurt like a semi-truck carrying a brick wall. He could feel the tears finally rolling down his cheek.

"We can't do this anymore," Blaine said quietly after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

"What?"

"We can't do this," Blaine repeated waving his hand between himself and Kurt, his face lacking any expression that would indicate that he felt badly for what he'd just said, "Not anymore."

"That's not fair."

"Nothing about us being together is going to be fair. Not to either of us," Blaine told him, "It's fine today, but what about tomorrow? And let's just pretend that June Dolloway never follows through on her threats: we'd be fine for a while, but eventually you're going to be sick of being confined to the house, and the times your father isn't home, for us to be together. How long before that gets old? How long before you want to take a date to homecoming or prom? How long before you go away to school and I stay here? How long before you find a guy that you can be with in public? Who can take you on dates and can show you off to his friends? What happens then?"

"I don't need any of that."

"But you're going to want it all," Blaine said, "One day you're going to want it all. And you deserve it, Kurt. You deserve every good thing the universe can offer you. But I can't be the one to give any of that to. No matter how much I want to."

"I want you."

"If it was just that, I'd risk it," Blaine told him, "If the only thing that was breaking was my heart, I would risk it. I would be with you until you didn't want to be with me anymore. And then deal with the aftermath. But we can't continue to pretend this is something that it isn't, especially when there are people watching closely."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know that I could go to jail, or  _worse_ , for just talking to you like this?" Blaine asked, "Do you know what would happen to both of us if someone found out that I've kissed you? That we've cuddled on the couch and watched movies? That you've shared a bed with me?"

"I would never let anything happen to you," Kurt said. He never meant anything more, "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I trust you," Blaine said without hesitation, "I have trusted you my entire life. But that doesn't mean anything. Not anymore."

"Of course it does."

"It doesn't," Blaine reiterated, "It doesn't matter if I trust you, because in the end it's all the same. I am a slave. I have no rights, no identity, no freedom beyond what you and the law allow me. And I know that I have been so unbelievably lucky that you and your dad have given me so much, but that could be the thing that gets us all into trouble. And there are still things that you can't give me—you said it yourself. There isn't a single thing I can give you. Whether or not I trust you doesn't change that. Whether or not I  _love_  you doesn't change that. I am not the Blaine you fell in love with at thirteen. I can't be him anymore, no matter how much either of us wants me to. And I've known that. I've known that for a long time, even before your dad got sick. But for a second, I thought that I could be your friend—that I could be something more than that. But I was stupid. We were stupid. And all of this stuff with Ms. Clarke and Ms. Dolloway is really just a sign that we have to start being smart."

Kurt couldn't breathe. No matter how many of Blaine's words were true, he couldn't help but feeling like his world had once again tipped off its axis and was throwing everything into chaos once again.

"You were going to do this anyway, weren't you?" Kurt asked, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I've been thinking about it for a while," Blaine admitted, "But I wasn't planning on doing it today."

"Even before this mess with Ms. Dolloway?"

"Yes," Blaine said, "But I thought we would have more time. I'm sorry, Kurt. I don't like that I'm hurting you."

"Will you answer one question?"

"Of course," Blaine said, his face still an emotionless mask.

"Do you regret that we bought you?" Kurt asked, "And please don't lie to me to avoid hurting my feelings."

"No," Blaine said, "What I said to you was the truth. You're all I've ever wanted. But that doesn't change what we may be facing, or who I am."

"You're Blaine," Kurt said.

"But I'm not the Blaine you think I am," he said, "The Blaine we've both been pretending I am."

"So we're breaking up?"

"I don't know that you can break up with someone you were never really with. Who you can never really be with," Blaine said, "But this is the end, yes."

"Blaine…" Kurt started, but he wasn't sure what he could say that could change Blaine's mind. It wasn't like what he said wasn't true, he'd thought about them not fifteen minutes before.

"I think you should go, Kurt," Blaine whispered.

"Blaine," Kurt repeated, and then spoke the only word he thought might make a difference, "Don't."

"Kurt," Blaine said, his eyes pleading. He didn't get to make many requests, but he knew that he could make this one—even if it would break both of their hearts, "Please."

"Will we at least be able to stay friends?" Kurt asked his voice cracking. The last bit of strength he had wavering.

Blaine was silent for a few seconds, his eyes downcast, unable to meet Kurt's, "I don't know."

Kurt nodded, his arms wrapped around his middle, trying to keep from completely falling apart. The last time he'd felt like this was when they'd told him that if his father didn't wake up that he would be put into the system. The system that had taken Blaine away from him once and now was taking him away again—even if he stayed with them forever. He managed to make it to his own room before he crashed into bed and let his pillow muffle the sobs that overtook him.

* * *

Three days later, Kurt found himself sulking on the couch by himself, while Blaine was up in his room avoiding him. Everything felt the same way it had before his father had gotten sick: Blaine hardly made eye contact, barely said a word to him, and now that so much had passed, and so much had changed between them , Blaine's withdrawal felt like a punch to the gut every time they were in the same room. But Kurt decided that it was best to give them both some time to clear their heads. As long as Blaine didn't resort to calling him Master or Sir again, Kurt would give all the space he needed to clear his head.

Kurt hadn't mentioned anything about his break up—no, it was a fight—to his father. Burt had asked, completely aware that something had changed in his house, but Kurt had never said a word. He wasn't sure he could keep a level head. He trusted his father more than anyone, more than Blaine, and he'd betrayed that trust. And maybe part of him understood why, the same way that he understood why Blaine had kept his secrets. He understood that his father was trying to protect him, both him and Blaine. But that didn't make it all hurt any less. If Blaine wouldn't talk to him then he'd talk to his father when he got home from work.

But his mind kept going back to the events that followed Blaine's reveal. And even if he could forgive Blaine for keeping secrets, and he could, it wouldn't be so easy to forget what else Blaine had said. They'd fought before, but never like this. And it usually resulted in both of their parents reminding them that they were best friends, and whatever they were fighting about wasn't worth destroying their friendship over. But they weren't just playing with their friendship anymore and Blaine wasn't sure that there was anything left to save. He was wrong, and Kurt was just going to have to find a way to prove it to him. He would tell Blaine that it didn't matter what version of Blaine he was, there wasn't a version of him that Kurt didn't love—it was impossible. He'd love the versions of him that were good and whole, the parts of him that were a little broke, and, yes, the part of him that was a slave. Because that last pieces didn't define who Blaine was, not to Kurt. They would deal with it, the same way they would deal with June Dolloway and her ridiculous threats. All that mattered was that he loved Blaine, and he knew that Blaine loved him. And that mattered, despite what Blaine said. It mattered more than anything else. The rest was just a bunch of messy bits that they'd work through, together. Together, they could get through anything.

It was that thought had Kurt getting up off the couch, desperate to tell Blaine all of that, to make him listen. He told himself that he'd give Blaine space, but the blood his adrenaline was on the rise and he couldn't stand the silence between them any longer. Maybe Blaine would continue to ignore him, but at least Kurt would say what he needed to say.

Kurt cursed the universe when the doorbell rang when he was nearly at the stairs. With a frustrated sigh he walked over and pulled the door open and found himself standing in front of a boy, who looked about his age, with long, dirty blonde hair and Kurt knew instantly from Blaine's descriptions, who he had finally come face to face with: Sam. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the boy in front of him wasn't it. Behind Sam, a blond girl stood, her hair in a messy bun on top of head, looking bored and annoyed, with her arms folded across her chest.

"Are you Kurt?" Sam asked looking around, watching to see if anyone was looking at them suspiciously, waiting to see if he had to bail before someone called the police. Their punishment, if they were caught, wasn't worth risking themselves like this, Kurt knew. But still, here they were.

"Yes," Kurt answered.

"Cool," Sam said, a half smile brightening up his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet, "My name is Sam and I need to see Blaine. It's kind of important."

"He's, uh, upstairs," Kurt said, "I can get him."

"Sam?"

Kurt turned to see Blaine coming down the stairs. He would have been coming to answer the door. He took hesitant steps towards them, but Kurt could see the surprise and, dare he say it, happiness, in Blaine's eyes as they fell on his friend.

"Blaine!" Sam shouted, "Man, it's so good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked, coming down the rest of the stairs until he stood next to Kurt. It was the closest they'd been in days.

Sam surveyed the neighborhood one more time, "Look, dude. It's kind of dangerous if we're out here too long," he said, "Do you think we could come inside? I'll tell you everything."

Sam wasn't talking to Kurt, but Blaine looked inquiringly at Kurt who was still trying to wrap his head around what was happening: that Sam was no longer a boy from stories, but a tangible person standing on his porch. He nodded at Blaine, thankful that Blaine still trusted him to not let anything bad happen to him, or the people he cared about.

"Yeah," Blaine answered, "Come on in."

Kurt stepped out of the way so Sam and his friend could enter the house and Blaine led them all into the living room, and then disappeared into the kitchen to get water for everyone as if their guests weren't fugitive child slaves. God—Kurt's blood began to boil when he thought about everything Sam and his friend, who still hadn't been said a word or been introduced, had been through. Kurt sat in the silent tension that was building in his living room. He focused on his hands, clasped in his lap, instead of his guests. It was rude, he knew that, but he didn't know what he should, or could, say to Sam. But he was anxious to hear what Sam had to say to Blaine. Blaine returned after a few minutes with a tray of glasses, but Kurt didn't take one as he Blaine sat down and eyed Sam, and his friend, curiously.

"Blaine," Sam said after he'd taken a long sip from his glass. When was the last time they'd gotten fresh water? "This is Quinn," he said as an introduction, then added, "Her father sold her into slavery."

Kurt couldn't help himself, 'What? How is that even possible?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You don't just have to lose your parents to get into this game anymore," she told them, "Your loser father can gamble you away, too. Now, please hurry this along," she said to Sam, "I don't feel safe here."

Even though her words were directed at Sam, their honestly stirred something inside Kurt. If Quinn didn't feel safe here, where did she?

"You're safe here," Blaine said, looking Kurt in the eye for the first time since their fight, "I promise."

"Good," Sam said turning his attention to Blaine, "Did you get the letter I sent you?"

Blaine's eyes went to Kurt before they went back to Sam, "Yes."

"Then why didn't you meet us?" Sam asked, "We waited a while but we couldn't wait any longer without getting caught."

"I…I couldn't go," Blaine said.

"That's cool," Sam said, "I mean, it sucks, but I wanted to make sure you didn't get in trouble for my letter, to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Blaine said, "You risked a lot to come here just to make sure I was okay."

"You'd do the same for me, Blaine," Sam said looking Blaine square in the eye, "And I came here to convince you, in person this time, to come back with us. I know you said I don't owe you anything for what you did for me, but I want to try."

"What's it like?" Blaine asked ignoring Sam's request.

But Sam answered him anyway, "Dirty, uncomfortable. Hot in the summer, freezing in the winter. But you don't get whipped or burned or beaten if you sleep past sunrise. You don't have to clean up after anybody. There are books and music, and everyone gets along. There are kids young enough to be my brother and sister and there are some adults, too. It's not a dream, Blaine. But it's better than living your life taking care of someone else. Blaine, I want you to come back with us."

"No, Sam," Blaine said shaking his head, "I can't go. I won't."

"Why not?"

"Me," Kurt answered and then turned his attention to Blaine, "But Blaine, I want you to go."

Kurt had barely noticed the tear running down his cheek until the words were out of his mouth. The words that gave Blaine the permission he needed to go and get the best life he could. No, the life Sam was describing was not ideal, and it was still difficult. But as Kurt listened to Sam describe what his life was like now, he knew that he could give the Blaine the thing he'd never been able to provide him, freedom. Or at least something that resembled it. It would take Blaine away from him and it would break his heart into pieces again, but he couldn't pass on the opportunity to give this to Blaine.

"Kurt," Blaine said.

"I want you to go," Kurt repeated, "You should go. I may not be able to give you your freedom, but I can give you this."

"I told you I wasn't leaving you," Blaine said firmly, "I still mean that."

"You're not leaving me," Kurt said, a new batch of tears falling from his eyes, "I'm letting you go."

"No," Blaine said, eyes wide, pleading, "I'm sorry for what I said the other day. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," Kurt said softly, "And that's okay. You were right, I just didn't' realize it until now."

The realization was an impact that he wasn't ready for. Not fifteen minutes ago he was ready to convince Blaine that anything was possible if they were together. They could have some semblance of happiness if they were by each other's side. But when Sam showed up and offered a possibility that had once been passed up, describing something that was somehow more than what Blaine could offer, Kurt realized he'd been naïve. And maybe love couldn't conquer all. But it was the only weapon he had, and he loved Blaine enough to give him what he needed. Even if that meant losing him again.

"We've got a chance to get you far away from June Dolloway," Kurt added.

"And far away from you."

"If she can really do what you say she can, why not disappear before she can take you away?"

"I…" was all that Blaine could muster. Kurt could see the war going on his Blaine's head, and his in heart. His love for Kurt conflicting with his need for something more than the life he was allowed to live according to the law.

"Do you two want to do this in another room?" Quinn asked from the couch, reminding them that there were other people in the room.

"No," Blaine said, "I'm sorry, Sam, but I'm not going."

"Blaine," Kurt argued, this would hurt today, but once they hurt subsided, he would see the good in it, they both would, "Please don't stay for me."

Blaine looked like he was about to scream. The war waging inside of him, "I need, I need to think about this," Blaine said in a raised voice.

Sam stood up, "Blaine, we have to go back Tennessee tomorrow. I think you should listen to Kurt and come with us, but ultimately, it's your choice."

The choice Blaine hadn't had before.

"Then go," Kurt said to Sam, "Come back tomorrow morning after nine-thirty. If anybody is home it'll look suspicious."

"Is that okay, Blaine?" Sam asked.

Blaine only nodded, his arms wrapped around his middle. Kurt has to remind himself that the pain now will be worth it.

Kurt left Blaine in the living room while Sam and Quinn slipped out the front door and disappeared down the block. They'd risked a lot for Blaine and Kurt was happy that he had more allies in the world; people to stand by him. Because tomorrow might be the last day he ever saw Blaine for the rest of his life.

* * *

When Burt returned home a little while later, dinner was in the oven and Kurt and Blaine somehow managed to pretend everything was okay while they ate. The boys had barely spoken about Blaine leaving after Sam and Quinn left, in fact, they'd barely spoken at all. Kurt wasn't sure what else he could say. Blaine knew where he stood on the situation, but the decision was his to make. After the dishes were done, Kurt followed Blaine upstairs and into Blaine's bedroom, thankful that Blaine wasn't pushing him away. When Blaine laid down on the right side of the bed, Kurt followed on the left. It was the same way they'd laid the night before Blaine left for training, in the dark, but close because time was precious.

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" Kurt asked the same way Blaine had that night so long ago. His voice hushed.

"I'm not going," Blaine whispered back.

"Please go," Kurt said reaching for Blaine's hand, thankful that Blaine let him, "I can't stand the thought of you being torn from me again."

"As if this is any better."

"Not better," Kurt told him, "But for the best."

"I think I'm mad at you right now," Blaine said, still holding Kurt's hand, "I feel like you're sending me away."

"No. Never," Kurt said quickly, trying to be as reassuring as he could, "But Blaine, you deserve more."

"What if I don't want it?"

"It's the same as what you were saying the other day about me wanting a boyfriend I can call my boyfriend and take out in public," Kurt said reluctantly bringing up the argument from the other day. He'd play dirty if he had to.

"It's not the same."

"It is, Blaine," Kurt argued, "Please don't be afraid to take this if you really want it. Don't let me be the thing that keeps you from it. I want what makes you happy. Whatever that is."

"I'll be a runaway," Blaine whispered after a minute, "I won't be able to come back. Ever."

And with that Kurt knew that Blaine had made up his mind.

"At least you won't be alone," Kurt told him, "I can live with that as long as you're not alone. And that you're happy."

"Can you promise me something?" Blaine asked pulling their joined hands to rest against his chest. Kurt could feel his heartbeat against the back of his hand.

"Anything."

"Be happy too," Blaine said, "If we do see each other again, I want you to be the happiest man on earth."

Kurt stayed quiet, but looked into Blaine's eyes. The eyes of the boy who was his best friend for so many years; who he grew to love; who he lost and got back; and who he was losing again. In those warm, amber eyes was where Kurt's happiness lived. And Blaine was about to take his happiness with him. The tears were rolling down his cheeks, because right or wrong, this was going to hurt more than the last time, more than anything else, except the loss of his mother, was going to hurt him in his entire life.

"I'll try," Kurt told him, "That's all I can promise you right now."

The tears were rolling down Blaine's cheek as he kissed Kurt, firmly on the lips, because their time was running out. They would share as many kisses as they could.

They fell asleep late, their bodies wrapped around each other, and their tears cooling on their cheeks. They woke up early the next morning, exchanging a few more kisses before Kurt left for school, knowing that Blaine wouldn't be there when he returned. He was distant all day, wondering how far he and Sam could have gotten in the few hours they'd been gone. Though, some part of him hoped that Sam never came back and that Blaine would be waiting for him when he got home. But he couldn't let himself hold on to the hope. When Rachel asked him what was wrong, he fought back to tears and shook his head. He couldn't tell her, he couldn't tell anyone that Blaine was gone. He could never tell anyone that he let him go because he loved him enough to give him what he really needed, his freedom. So he just shook his head and followed her into the choir room.

There was no one else there when Kurt walked into the house after school and closed the door behind him. His father was at work, still oblivious to what had happened. It was strange to come home to an empty house. He'd gotten used to coming home to Blaine's smile and then sitting at the table to do homework while Blaine cooked dinner. But now the house felt cold and empty. It felt like it had after his mom had died and after Blaine had been sent to training. It didn't really feel like a home.

Kurt put his bag down next to the door and then slowly took the stairs towards Blaine's bedroom. There were things missing, Kurt could tell. Blaine had filled his backpack with whatever he got and left the rest behind. Kurt looked over at the desk, to the place where he'd found Sam's letter, to where there was now the CD that Kurt had given him after Sectionals; the CD of the Warblers. On top of it was a post it now and written on it in black pen, in Blaine's neat handwriting it read: I'll see you soon. I love you.

Kurt took a deep breath. He didn't want to cry. He had told Blaine to go, had hoped that he would go. But Blaine was gone. The piece of himself that he'd gotten back in September was gone. He told himself that he could fill that part of him, the empty space in his heart, and his soul, with the knowledge that Blaine was free, or at least close to it. He told himself that would be enough to keep him from falling apart. Kurt left the note on top of the CD and lay down on the bed—Blaine's bed—and held onto the pillow that smelled like Blaine. Like the boy who was his best friend and his first love. The boy who was out there in the world somewhere, who he'd probably never see again. He'd cry later, when his father came home and there were answers to be given. But for now, he'd do what he hadn't been able to do the last time Blaine went away. With Blaine's comforting scent surrounding, Kurt thought back to the day of their first tea party. And he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have no fear, I'll have Chapter 12 (THE LAST CHAPTER) up in a few days! Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, one last time.

_Eighteen Months Later…_

Kurt knew that this presidential election was the most important one he’d ever witness. Not only was it the first where he was allowed to vote, but if Senator Deacon won, it would change the future of the country. Kurt followed the senator from Illinois closely from the moment he threw his hat into the presidential race. He’d promised, during that first announcement, that under his leadership, slavery would be abolished, and every person whose skin had been branded with the "ut ministraretur ei" tattoo would have the chance to live under their own rule.

Kurt sat in front of the television in the apartment he shared with Rachel in New York City all night, by himself, flipping between newscasts. He had a test in the morning, but his books lay closed next to him on the couch, and his thoughts were only on the boy he hadn’t seen in almost two years. The boy his heart still yearned for in the middle of the night, the boy who Kurt let disappear into the world in search of as much freedom as he could have as a runaway. But now, there was a chance. A chance that the world they lived in could offer Blaine the freedom he deserved. Real freedom. He could stop hiding, he could stop running, and he could come back to Kurt.

On that afternoon, which now felt like a lifetime ago, Kurt explained everything to his father when he came home from work. Kurt had been sitting on the couch in the dark; Blaine was nowhere to be found. Calmly, but with not much more than a whisper, Kurt told his father about Sam and his letter, about how he’d found a chance at freedom. He told his father about what Blaine had overheard Ms. Clarke promise—her threats—at his last evaluation. When Kurt asked him if it was true, he only nodded. But he explained his fears; they were the same as Blaine’s: that even all the fighting in the world would not be enough.  That she would take them all down as long as they held onto Blaine. Kurt’s voice was cracking by the time he told his dad about Sam’s visit, and how this morning when he’d left for school he’d known that Blaine would not be there when he got back. And then he told him the most important thing of all.

“I love him,” Kurt told his father, “I love him enough to let him go.”

There was no use in holding back the tears any longer and Kurt let the strangled sob escape his lips. Blaine was gone and Kurt had let him go. Even if he knew it was for the best, even if he had encouraged Blaine, he couldn’t help the feeling that shards of glass were now embedded in his heart. With each beat it ached, reminding him that part of him was missing.

No one else knew that Blaine was gone until Ms. Clarke called to setup Blaine’s next evaluation—not even two weeks later. Ms. Clarke and a few other government officials questioned both Burt and Kurt intensely. Kurt had to remember not to cry when they asked him if he knew anything about Blaine’s disappearance, and crying only made him look as guilty as he was. Crying showed Ms. Clarke how much Blaine meant to him, to his family. Crying would only get them in more trouble. So he calmly told her what he could: that Blaine had been there when he left for school, but was missing when he returned home.

They entered Blaine into the system as a runaway. If they found him, he wouldn’t come back home. The Hummels probably wouldn’t even be notified. But Senator Deacon was promising that there would be no punishment for those who managed to escape their masters.

Without Blaine, Kurt graduated from high school, moved to New York for college with Rachel and tried to put one foot in front of the other each day. Some days he did alright. He did well in school, made new friends, and was even convinced to go out on a date or two. But every night before he fell asleep, his mind drifted to the boy whose smile, even the thought of it, was like a salve to his heart. All the pain, all the sadness, all the loneliness were worth it because Blaine was out there somewhere, free. And it was all Kurt needed to know.

But there were some days that felt like years. Some nights that felt like they would never end. It was those nights when Kurt hated himself for letting Blaine go. When the selfish part of him just wanted his best friend back. If he would have just said so Blaine would be in Lima, or even New York, instead of out there somewhere cold or hungry. Or worse. If Blaine died, Kurt would never know.

Kurt’s phone rang as a tear fell from each of his eyes, rolling warmly down his cheeks. Looking at the caller ID, he wondered how his father always seemed to call when Kurt needed him the most.

“Hey Dad,” Kurt said. He tried to hide the fact that he’d been crying, but there was no use. Especially with his father.

“It’s going to be okay,” Burt said by way of greeting. Kurt knew his father was back in Lima, sitting in his old chair, watching the television just as closely as he was. If anyone understood what he was feeling right now, it was his dad.

“I just miss him,” Kurt whispered.

“I know you do, kid,” Burt said, “I bet he misses you just as much. He’ll come home one day and tell you so.”

“You don’t know that,” Kurt said. He told himself that every day. But ‘one day’ was infinitely far away and right now there was still no way that Blaine _could_ come home.

“You’re right,” Burt said, “I don’t. But you have to hope that it’s true. Otherwise, you’ve already given up.”

Kurt remembered the weeks, so long ago now, that his father had been in the hospital. He remembered that it was hope that he’d held onto when it seemed like there was nothing left. Home—and Blaine. He would hold onto hope again now. He would hope that the country would change, and that everyone would be free once again. And then Blaine could come home to him.

He hung up with his father and continued flipping between the channels filled with election coverage. They weren’t really saying anything new; Kurt just couldn’t watch the same two people for more than a few minutes. When Rachel came home, she sat down next to him and held his hand until she fell asleep beside him.

It was after midnight when they could finally, officially, announce that Senator Deacon would be the next president of the United States.

_Twenty four months later…_

The text from his father had simply said “turn on the TV ASAP. Then call me.”

Kurt was nearly back to the loft by the time he received it, but could tell that something big had happened; the entire city was beginning to buzz around him, more than it usually did, as he pushed through the sea of people as quickly as he could. He had no idea what was going on, but if the city was talking about it, and his father had sent him a text message, he knew it was important.

Once he was tucked inside he turned on the TV, checking several news stations to confirm, but they were all saying the same thing: President Deacon had signed whatever it was that he had to sign in order to abolish slavery. Effective May 1st, just one month from now, all slaves would be free. Accommodations were being made for those who had nowhere else to go, and several corporations had already agreed to give paying jobs to as many former slaves as they could. It would be difficult, but they would be free.

Kurt felt himself take a breath that he hadn’t been able to let breathe in nearly five years. Not since the day that Blaine had been taken away, and then he was crying. The tears were falling hot from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, had rallied and protested. He’d done everything he could to contribute to the cause that meant so much to him and now it finally felt like it meant something. There would be true freedom for all.

But the dark cloud quickly found its way to Kurt as he tried to calm down and call his father. Everyone would be free, but he still had no idea where Blaine was.

_6 months later…_

Kurt was happy the semester was over and that he could spend a few weeks in Lima before heading back to New York for the New Year’s Eve party that he and Rachel were hosting in their loft. Between his school work and his internship, Kurt had been constantly busy since the summer ended, and now he needed a break. He needed time away from the hustle of school and the city and, well, everything. He needed to spend time with his dad and just be for a little while.

There was a last minute emergency at the garage and Rachel’s dads had offered to drive him home from the airport. It was unusual for his father not to be waiting for him, but it was nice to see a couple of familiar faces waiting for him with a smile on their face. He sat in the backseat next to Rachel while she filled them in on her latest classes and auditions—the very subjects they discussed with her on the phone the night before. But Kurt didn’t mind, in fact, he was grateful that they weren’t asking him questions because he was too busy trying to push down the hope. The hope that he’d arrive back home and Blaine would be there waiting for him.

It had been seven months since slaves were freed, five months since there were constantly news stories about slaves who were starting their lives again. Kurt watched each and every one of them, hoping that he’d see Blaine, or that someone would mention him. But there wasn’t a glimpse or a word spoken, and every afternoon he’d call his father, hoping that there would be some news, but there never was. They’d reached out to every company and organization that was helping with getting slaves acclimated to their free life, and each night, Kurt would sit and hold on to the hope that his father had reminded him of years ago. The hope that Blaine was out there somewhere, missing him like he missed Blaine, and that one day he would come home. But when would that be? He could have come home months ago, but there wasn’t so much as a phone call or a letter.

And the longer they waited, the less they heard, the more Kurt’s thoughts veered towards the darkness. The longer he didn’t know where Blaine was, the more he had to fight not to think about Blaine lying dead in a ditch somewhere; far away from home where no one knew his name. Maybe Sam wasn’t able to save him. He’d checked the records for Sam Evans as well, with no result. And he had no idea what Quinn’s last name was so that was a dead end. But his father would just remind him to have hope. Hope that Blaine was out there somewhere; hope that Blaine would come home. But as Rachel’s dad turned onto his street, the only bad part of hope was having to always hope for a little while longer.

As expected, his father’s truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot, and Kurt thought that having the house to himself for a little while wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He could really use a nap.

Kurt waved goodbye to the Berry’s and promised to text Rachel later to discuss party plans, then dragged his suitcase towards his front door. Once he was in the house, it became easier to breathe. There was an instant comfort for the place he would always call home, even though it was empty. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up. He text his father to let him know that he was home and then carried his suitcase up to his room. There was laundry to do, and things to unpack, but he was really tired despite it being early afternoon. He fell asleep on top of his bed in an instant.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Kurt woke up to the sound of his name being called. He opened his eyes and fixed them on his bedroom door, his father leaning inside.

“Can you come downstairs for a second?” his father asked and then left his room.

Cautiously, Kurt sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes before pulling himself off the bed. Something wasn’t right, he was sure of it.  First, his father couldn’t pick him up from the airport, and now he was acting strange, distant. He hadn’t greeted him with the smile and hug that Kurt had been expecting, and was longing for.

He descended the stairs slowly as if his speed could somehow change the course of the universe. If, by taking his time whatever was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs would change into something else. He was two steps from the bottom when he heard a voice. A voice that wasn’t his father’s but felt just as familiar. A voice that stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey.”

Kurt turned his head to his left, to the living room, to a boy—a man—who looked a lot like his best friend. The one he hadn’t seen in over four years, the one who he’d been worried about for so long. The one he never thought he’d see again. He was standing in the middle of his living room and Kurt wondered if he was still asleep. If this was all just a dream. But as he descended the last of the stairs, held tightly to the banister, feeling the pressure as he dug into his skin, he knew he was awake.

He took three big, quick steps until he was standing in front of Blaine. With only a few inches between them, Kurt could see Blaine’s wide amber eyes shining at him. Like Blaine was in just as much awe to see Kurt as Kurt was to see him. The memory of Blaine that he’d held on to didn’t do justice to the real Blaine Anderson. He was still the most beautiful person the world had ever created.

He had a million questions: Where have you been? How did you get here? _When_ did you get here? But none of them seemed to matter. None of them mattered, because he was there now and Kurt reached out and pulled Blaine to him, wrapping his arms around his neck, holding him close. He smelled like the cold winter air, and the garage, and that scent that had always meant _Blaine_. When Blaine’s arms came around his waist, holding him just as close, just as tightly, Kurt squeezed him closer and the tears fell from his eyes. And for the first time in years, they were happy tears. Blaine was home. Blaine was free. He was in his arms and there was no one that could take him away again. Not the government, not June Dolloway, not Sam Evans.

He held onto Blaine until the tears—from both of them—stopped and Blaine let out a breathy laugh, its warmth caressing his neck. It had been years, but he could still feel the part of him—part of his heart—unthawing. Waking up after being constantly pushed back. They would talk about that later. They had an eternity now; there was no need to rush.

“Hi,” Kurt said, pulling back just enough so that he could keep Blaine in his arms, but see his beautiful face.

“You’re home,” Blaine said.

“So are you,” Kurt whispered.

#break#

They had three weeks. Twenty one days before Kurt had to catch a flight back to New York. And they intended to make the most of every minute, in a way that they hadn’t been able to in so long. They went to the movies and to the mall; they spent an afternoon baking with Rachel in her kitchen and Blaine accompanied them out with the New Directions alum that were in town for the holiday break. All the obstacles that had been there four years ago were gone, replaced with a freedom Blaine thought he’d never have again.

The entire camp was gathered around the radio all day after they’d announced the end. The end of everything Blaine had known for nearly five years. In thirty days, he’d be free.  When the time came he left Sam and Quinn and headed towards Ohio. Sam mentioned something about finding assistance for him and Quinn in Nashville, but Blaine had to go back. Sam and Quinn had no one left that cared, but Blaine could think of two who cared about him. At least he hoped they still did.

Burt had greeted him with a hug and a warm meal and was reaching for his phone to call Kurt, but Blaine stopped him. Not yet. It wasn’t time. It was the middle of the semester and Kurt would want to rush home. He hated asking Burt to lie to Kurt, and knew how hard it was for the older Hummel every evening when Kurt called. But Blaine wasn’t ready yet. And when Burt asked him what he was going to do, he set forth a plan that he’d spent the last four years daydreaming about.

He got his GED, worked as much as he could at the garage, earning and saving money. He did the chores around the house, not out of obligation but as payment for Burt’s generosity. But he was no longer afraid to turn on the radio and Burt had come home on some days to the sound of Blaine singing and dancing around the kitchen. He was trying to find the Blaine that he’d left behind all those years ago. Not because he needed to be him, but because he wanted to. For himself and for Kurt. The next time he would see Kurt, he would be someone who was worthy of him. Someone he could have all of the things they’d dreamed about, together.

And by the time Kurt came home for Christmas, he was ready.

Now that their time was up and Kurt was leaving in the morning, they found themselves, like they always did before a pending separating, lying next to each other on Blaine’s bed. Their relationship these last few weeks had been nothing but platonic—plus some hand holding. And that was okay. Blaine was home, Blaine was free, and Kurt was next to him. He didn’t care about the rest. But he still loved Kurt the same way he did when he was thirteen, and again at sixteen. He’d love him that way for the rest of his life.

“What would you say if I asked you to come back to New York with me?” Kurt whispered, “At least for a few days. Classes don’t actually start for a few weeks.”

Blaine smiled. He hadn’t wanted to ask, or to assume, but he’d been hoping that Kurt would ask him. Now that it was a possibility, never wanted to leave Kurt’s side, “Okay,” he whispered.

New York was big, overwhelming, but absolutely beautiful. It was no surprise that Kurt found himself there. They fit in as much sightseeing as they could around the party planning and on New Year’s Eve, Blaine found himself sitting on the couch in Kurt and Rachel’s apartment, sipping on a drink, remembering the last party he’d been to: on New Year’s Eve, in Rachel’s basement. He remembered sneaking outside with Kurt so that they could kiss at midnight. And as midnight approached on this day, he was just happy that he could spend it by Kurt’s side.

“One minute!” Rachel shouted and then Kurt was by his side.

“Come with me,” Kurt said grabbing his hand and leading him into his bedroom, and then to the window.

Kurt opened the window and climbed onto the fire escape, then extended his hand for Blaine to follow.  He and Kurt had spent so many years watching a televised version of New Year’s Eve in Times Square, and even though they were far away from the huge crowd, the entire city felt electric as the anticipation of the new year grew by the millisecond.

10…9…8…7…6…

They were counting down inside but Kurt only held tighter to Blaine’s hand.

5…4…

Could you make wishes at midnight on New Year’s? Was that moment as magical as 11:11 or midnight on your birthday?

3…2…

It didn’t matter. He’d start the new year free, and then the possibilities were endless.

1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The fireworks erupted in the sky; the cheers came from inside the loft and around the city, around the world.

“Happy New Year, Blaine,” Kurt said.

“Happy New Year, Kurt,” he said and then he tugged on their joined hands, pulling Kurt to him, pulling him close until he could wrap his arms around him and press his lips against Kurt’s. If the possibilities were indeed endless, why not start with the thing he wanted most? He smiled when Kurt’s responded against him. His fingers and his lips, holding him tightly and drinking him in.

 “You waited,” Blaine said resting their foreheads together.

“I told you,” Kurt said, “I’d wait for you forever.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, there we have it. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!
> 
> Thank you to Christine, for taking a chance on this fic and making it so much better than it would have been if I was left to my own devices. Thank you to Laura for being the greatest cheerleader EVER. One year ago today I sent her an email about an idea and now we have a finished product. it wouldn't have happened without either of these ladies.
> 
> I don't know what is next for me, but thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting this fic, or any of my others. It means the world to me that anyone was interested in reading what I had to write.


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